


The Greatest Show

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Vietnam, Alternate universe 60s/70s, Basically it's hayffie in a circus, Circus life, F/M, I'm all out of tag, It's alternate universe if you didn't get that yet XD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-07-12 04:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: It's been a long time since Haymitch Abernathy left the circus life behind him but when a stranger in a red dress shows up on his doorstep looking to hire, it's time to decide if this magician is out of tricks or if he has a last sleight of hand to play.





	1. A Splash Of Red

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, welcome to the Greatest Show!  
> This story is a 15 chapters long (yes, I know for me it’s actually positively short, I was shocked too) circus au with the Vietnam war and Civil Rights era in the background (it will tread on both subjects from time to time, context oblige). I will warn ahead, it is strictly hayffie and more romance than anything else (well, yes, it has angst too, when doesn’t it with me?).  
> Special thanks to @akachankami as always for the beta and to @euphemiafleurtrinket for cheering me up when I wrote this story.  
> I hope you enjoy this little story! Let me know your thoughts!

The knocks on the door were sharp brief and repeated enough times that they were impossible to ignore even through the mist of his semi-drunken state.

Haymitch stumbled from his moth eaten couch to the front door – altogether _not_ a long walk – and tore the door open with a scowl on his face, ready to send to hell whoever had gotten his shack by mistake. Nobody ever _willingly_ came to his house. For one, it was situated a little away from town, for two everyone knew to give him a wide berth.

He was the example. One of the young men who had come back from Vietnam wrong in the head and the point of reference to hold to those – few now – who still argued the war was necessary. His personal story was even worse than a youth tragically cut down by war but he wasn’t in a habit of exposing his failures to the public eye. He had done too much of that when he had still been on the roads already.

The woman on the other side of the door had been watching the small garden overgrown with frozen weeds and she turned at the sudden movement. For a moment, his breath caught.

It had been a while since he had seen someone like her. Posh. Pretty. _Beautiful_. The women in town all looked harried and worried. For their sons, for their husbands, for the country…

Her dress was red and that was what he noticed first because the splash of color was shocking against the flat washed-out winter landscape of North Virginia. Frost was clinging to the small porch’s broken banister, the ground was covered in a thin layer of snow, the sky was hung low, heavy with grey clouds… Everything was monochrome. Everything had been monochrome in his life since he had left the overwhelming green of a jungle behind but there it was now: a splash of bright red under the white polar bear fur of an open coat.

Red like the Big Top.

Red like a ringleader outfit.

Red like the blaze that had swallowed his whole life.

The dress hugged her torso and spread wild at the waist, as seemed to be fashionable those days – and it was _a fine_ figure she cut, that much he could admit. _Athletic_.

The coat was a little frayed and given the goosebumps that lined the triangular neckline of the dress, it was open more out of obligation than out of choice. A couple of golden buttons were missing.

Her features were delicate, _aristocratic,_ and her hair was styled in heavy blond curls pinned up on her head. She was wearing make-up, enough that it accentuated her face, not enough that it looked _tart_ , but still a touch more than any other girl he had seen around town. She looked like a rich girl and the stubborn tilt of her chin only emphasized that impression.

Her eyes were blue, blue enough that he got lost in them for a second, and her smile was cheerful, _contagious_ – or it might have been if he had still possessed anything left alive in him.

He noticed all that in a blink of an eye because that was what he was trained to do, drunk or not. It was what he had been trained to do since he had realized he had a gift for observing the little details most people missed.

He spared a thought for old Woof but chased away that thought when his heart squeezed a touch too painfully in his chest. The magician had been _ancient_ by the time Haymitch had taken over and he was pretty sure no other circus would have hired him. More likely than not, the old man had died begging on the streets by now. Most former circus people did.

Haymitch was also aware that he had been submitted to the same kind of inspection on her part. Her glance had been quick but over encompassing. He had been examined from his bare toes to his too long dirty hair – and his two days old white shirt and brown pants torn at the knees had been found lacking.

“Yeah?” he asked gruffly.

A neigh caught his attention and he realized he had been so fixated on the woman that he had completely missed the toffee coat horse tied to the fence. It was a pretty animal. A Palomino if he wasn’t mistaken, saddled and everything.

 “It _is_ you.” the woman grinned before he could linger on the strange thought of anyone wandering around on horseback in this day and age. “Mr Abernathy, I am _thrilled_ to meet you.”

She outstretched a hand with more gracefulness than he had ever seen anyone do anything and he stared at it, stared at the long delicate fingers and the telling calluses he could guess at on her palm… The calluses, like the missing buttons and the frayed fur coat, were in total opposition to her posh accent and her Daddy’s daughter profile.

“Fan of mine, are you?” he challenged tiredly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and ignoring the hand that still hovered between them.

“I saw you perform once or twice.” she confirmed, dropping her hand but not letting go of her grin. It was a little strained now, though. “My name is Effie Trinket and I was hoping to steal a few minutes of your time.”

He shook his head. “Not interested.”

A flash of irritation crossed her face and then it was gone. Just like that. The smile was back, the eyes were bright and she looked just as cheerful as she had been since he had opened the door. A performer’s face.

“Must you be so rude?” she sighed. “Mags warned me you would be difficult but…”

“Mags?” he cut her off, perking up. It had been a while since he had heard from Mags. Someone had told him she had settled down somewhere on the coast… “How is she?” The woman’s face fell and there was no pretending to be cheerful this time. He didn’t need her to actually say the words. He had known death long enough to know what it looked like. He looked up to the grey sky, eyes dry but a small lump in his throat. “How did she… Was she comfortable?”

He hoped she hadn’t ended up on the streets. He hoped she had found the peace she had deserved.

“She was watching the show from the back of the tent.” the woman told him. “She fell asleep. It was peaceful. She was with her family.”

And that was the best one could ask for when that time came. Haymitch was intimately acquainted with the feeling. His hand ended up on the right side of his stomach, as always when he thought about _that,_ the phantom pain in his side woke up where a cutlass had gutted him to an inch of his life.

“She was a great lady.” he commented, bowing his head a little. “Greatest aerial artist I’ve ever seen too.”

“That she was.” the woman whispered and then shivered when the wind picked up. “I do _not_ mean to intrude but would it be possible to move inside?”

“She trained you.” he ventured because the calluses on her palms… It was distinctive.

He completely ignored the other question. He didn’t receive people in his house. It was _barely_ a house. It was a shack he rented for far too much money, a money that was getting harder and harder to come by.

“I… Yes.” she confirmed and the bright smile was back. “You would not have heard of me, though, I do not think. Our circus is young still and…”

“Who are you with?” he cut her off.

He knew most circus’ owners still in business. Times were harsh. The war, the cinemas, _people…_ Circuses were a thing of the past for most people, not _modern_ enough. You had to be daring to exist nowadays, special, _noteworthy_ …

“ _Capitol Circus_.” she answered.

He frowned and waved a hand in the air. “Never heard of it. Who’s the owner?”

“Me, actually.” she replied after a beat.

He almost burst out laughing. “’Course you are. Explains everything. Let me guess, sweetheart… You were bored and Daddy’s money was _just_ burning through your pocket so you thought… _Hey, why not buy a circus, nothing can go wrong with that…_ ”

She recoiled a little, losing her cheerful expression for a resentful one. “You do not know _anything_ about me. Do _not_ presume.”

“I know owning a circus is more than just a passing fancy.” he sneered. “It’s not just a business. It’s _people_. People who depend on you. People you can’t let down.”

“Yes, I suppose you would know all about _that_.” she retorted.

And he shut up.

Because she was right.

He had no right giving out advices about running a circus after what had happened to his.

“I’d say it was nice to meet you but I ain’t big on lying.” he spat, moving back inside.

He tried to close the door but her red heel quickly shot out, blocking it.

“I am looking to hire.” she said in a rush. “With your experience… We could use you.”

“Use me?” he chuckled. “For what?”

“You had multiple acts, if I recall right.” she shrugged. “Throwing knives, magic tricks, ringleader… I am interested in any of them…”

“Must be desperate then.” he snorted.

“Circus as a form is dying.” she declared bluntly. “And, as you said, I am responsible for my people. With so many young people away… I need help and Mags insisted you would know what to do.”

“Mags was wrong.” he spat. “I’m retired.”

A flicker of despair passed over her face and she fished a folded paper from her coat pocket before thrusting it at him. “Please, at least come and watch the show. You can… You can tell me what you think. If you will not join us, perhaps you can advise me as to what needs changing?”

“Here’s some advice: go back home. You’re in too deep, _Princess_.” he mocked.

“Weren’t you too once?” she challenged. “When you took over _The Quell Circus_ , you were not any more ready than I am. You did it because someone needed to, that was what Mags always said. Well, I did the very same thing and I am hoping… I am hoping you will help me.”

“You’re a stranger.” he snorted. “Why would I help you?”

“Perhaps because we can help you in return.” She looked him over again and smiled a sad smile. “You have been away from the circus a long time, Mr Abernathy. Isn’t it time you come home?”

She took her foot back and sauntered down the broken steps of the porch. He wanted to slam the door shut, to block out the red splash of her dress on the white grayish landscape, but he couldn’t look away. He watched her hop on the horse – and she made it look as if she had been born doing just that: hopping on horses, barely using the stirrup – and he watched her gallop away. She was not even bothering to hold on to the reins, her arms were stretched wide on either side of her as if she was embracing the wind or life itself…

A show for his benefit, he figured.

He was shaking his head when he finally closed the door.

He dragged himself back to the couch, crumpling the leaflet in his fist without even looking at it. He poured himself a drink, his hands shaking so much half of the terrible moonshine spilled next to the glass. He only felt steady once he had a couple of glasses in him but it wasn’t enough to stop the intrusive memories.

As if Vietnam wasn’t bad enough on a daily basis… But it wasn’t the jungle and the dead kids that were haunting him now. It was the cheerful music and the cheers of a crowd… The casual familiarity of traveling companions… The laughter and the knowledge that whatever happened – that whatever _had_ happened in that goddamned war – he always had a home to return to: under the spotlights, in the middle of the ring, with his mother hastily sewing a missing button on a costume backstage and his brother running around proudly displaying his clown make-up, with Mabel already clad in her sparkly outfit stealing a kiss from him before their act…

_Isn’t it time you come home?_

He would have liked nothing else but his home had gone up in flames years ago. It was ashes to the wind now.

And yet he found himself smoothing the crumpled leaflet, taking in the colorful advertisement… _Come to Capitol Circus!_ _All Family Shows and Events! The Greatest Show On Earth!_ _Two nights only!_

He tossed it on the coffee table, unable to explain to himself why he wasn’t simply throwing it in the trash. It remained there, a blotch of color in the decrepit living-room, and he stared at it. He stared at it past the time the show would have started and he told himself that was it. One night out of two gone. The morning after next, the circus would move on as circuses were prone to do and that would be it.

That life was gone and it was never coming back.


	2. Capitol Circus

The second night in a town was usually the busiest but the area around the Big Top was sadly lacking a crowd. There were a few people wandering around waiting for the show to start, some of them Haymitch knew from town, others he had never seen before. The people from the circus themselves were easy to spot. They were running around in a hurry, some already wearing make-up or costumes…

Haymitch strolled through the animals display and decided that they were short staffed.

He wasn’t sure what he even was doing there. He had told himself again and again that he wouldn’t come and yet there he was, wearing a black leather jacket that had seen better days and his only pair of clean pants that didn’t have holes anywhere. He hadn’t bothered trying to comb his hair or shave the stubble that ate half his face but he figured for once he wasn’t sticking out like a sore thumb like he had everywhere else ever since he had left the circus.

The pull had been too strong.

He had walked all the way, swearing to himself he would turn back and go home with every new step, but the moment he had spotted the huge striped red tent, he had been lost. The Big Top called to him like a beacon and he had purchased a ticket from the young man at the booth without even realizing it.

Here, everything was a reminder.

The music in the air, drums and fanfare tunes that were intrinsically linked to the couple of hours preceding a show… The smell of popcorn, hay and animals… The sounds of people calling out to each other, of various animals making their opinions known, of vendors haranguing the visitors for souvenirs… Children laughing… Here, a grandfather holding a little girl’s hand and pointing at a zebra with his walking stick… There, a boy escaping his mother to run to a woman leading horses out of their paddock… The fairy lights being switched on when the night fell properly…

It was so similar to the last time he had been in a circus, to that last night…

“ _Hurry up, Bitchy Mitchy…”_ Mabel had laughed when she had left the main tent, leaving him to check on the dismantling process. _“You know I don’t like going to bed alone…”_

The last words he had heard from her.

Afterwards, when it had only been ashes and smoke and shocked-shell people holding each other tight and crying… He could still hear her voice ringing in his ears… _Hurry up, Bitchy Mitchy_ … And his gruff annoyed answer… _Don’t call me that_ … The same annoyed answer he always gave to that nickname, the only reason she used it in the first place…

He walked between makeshift paddocks and iron cages, barely registering the animals inside. The menagerie never was his department. He had always felt a bit sorry to see them trapped like that. Hayden had loved them though. His brother had always been begging to be allowed to help with them. Elephants. That had been Hayden’s favorite animal. _Elephants_.

There were no elephants at the Capitol Circus but everything else was more or less like he remembered it. There were goats, for some reason, and there was a woman inviting kids to come and pet them which was either a clever idea or a recipe for disaster.

Haymitch was still pondering the wisdom of a petting zoo when he found himself face to face with an honest to god lion. Right there, in the middle of an alley of cages, free to roam around, there was a lion who had clearly seen better days. A part of his right ear was gone, patches of hair were missing from his mane and he had a wild spark in his eyes that had Haymitch standing very, _very_ still.

“Don’t worry. Buttercup is tame.”

He blinked and dared looking away from the wild animal long enough to spot the little girl he hadn’t noticed next to the huge predator. She was holding a leash, he realized, a leash that was linked to a leather collar around the lion’s neck. The collar had blue gemstones on it that matched the girl’s costume. Her blond hair was parted into two French braids and her blue eyes were sparkling with amusement but no mockery.

“Sweetheart… I’m _pretty_ sure that’s not a puppy you’ve got here.” he said, glancing around in hope that he would find the animal trainer rushing to them. The place was deserted though.

“I rescued him from another circus when he was a baby.” the girl explained, unconcerned. She was petting the lion’s side, apparently not realizing that if the animal leaped away, she wouldn’t be strong enough to hold him back. “They weren’t nice to him but he’s my best friend. We have an act together. Are you coming in to watch the show?”

And, of all things, the mangled lion started _purring_.

Haymitch opened and closed his mouth twice and then found himself nodding. “Yeah.”

The little girl – she couldn’t be more than twelve, he figured – flashed him a bright smile. “You should go take your seat then. It’s going to start soon. That’s what the bell means.” The bell… He must have missed it, too lost in his memories. And he must also have looked too hesitant because the girl slipped her hand into his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

She led him toward the Big Top’s entrance and he followed, just like the lion on her other side.

“You know it ain’t safe to talk to strange men lurking in the dark, yeah?” he asked, for the sake of it, because she looked like a nice kid and he wasn’t sure how the posh woman was running her circus.

“Buttercup would eat you if you tried to attack me and my sister can hit the bullseye at a distance of sixty-five yards.” she answered calmly.

He supposed that made sense.

“Your sister throws knives?” he asked, interested despite himself.

“She’s an archer.” the girl grinned. “The best _ever_! Wait until you see her eat fire…”

He didn’t really see what one had to do with the other but he shrugged and accepted that at face value.

“Here you are!” she said brightly when they reached the entrance. “I have to hurry or I will miss the opening! Enjoy the show!”

He watched her saunter away to what he presumed to be the back entrance, the lion stalking after her like an overgrown dog. He was pretty sure she didn’t need the leash at all.

_Well_ … That was something.

He gave his ticket to the same young man who had sold it to him and quickly climbed at the top of the bleachers. Most of the audience had gathered on the first few rows but that was for amateurs. The best view was at the top, plus it allowed him to hide in the shadows and that was how he preferred it.

The least one could say was that the show wasn’t sold out. Half of the seats were still free but he figured, given the war, it wasn’t that surprising.

The lights dimmed a minute or so after he had taken his seat and he leaned forward a little, all the better not to miss a thing. His heart was beating fast in his chest, like it used to every time he was about to jump on stage…

Then a spotlight pierced the darkness and… He leaned back, a smirk on his lips. Well… Nobody could say that woman didn’t rock _red_. That was certainly a new look for ringleaders and one the men in the crowd were sold on if the appreciative murmurs were to go by. The red bodice hugged her body and left very little to the imagination, the golden fluff on her shoulders and the matching embroideries on the red fabric were a nice touch, but his eyes fixated on her endless legs… The thigh-high black boots, the top hat on her blond curls and the black bowtie around her neck that was purely decorative… He hardly registered any of it.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Effie Trinket’s voice boomed in the tent as she tossed her arms in the air. “Welcome, welcome, to Capitol Circus!”

The whip in her hand, he decided, was overkill.

A flick of it and the show was on the road. He clapped with everyone else when she asked them to greet the artists but pursed his lips when he realized how _few_ of them there were. No wonder she was looking to hire.

The first number was a dexterity performance probably the sister of the lion girl. The girl launched arrows after arrows, never missing her target. The first one was a practice target, the next one was a flying plate, the third one was an apple placed on another girl’s head. That one tore a few gasps and admiring applause from the crowd but it was too little too late. It felt like a built-up and not a climax.

Of course, then she started playing with fire and while a part of him instinctively recoiled at the sight of flames – he knew exactly how long it would have taken fire to swallow the tent and the surrounding trailers, how fast it could claim lives and how savagely it could devour everything – he had to admit it was daring and interesting. She wasn’t just a classic fire-eater, she _conjured_ it. She spit it out, she waved her hands and it burst forth around her…

He understood the black dress better now.

It took him all of two minutes to spot the hidden mechanisms but it was a nice trick and he wondered if she had been mentored by another magician or if she had developed that herself. With some proper training…

“Katniss Everdeen, The Girl On Fire!” the ringleader presented with a graceful sweep of her arm when the girl ran off under the crowd’s applause.

Someone needed to teach that kid how to smile, he decided.

The next number was a clown one. The young man whom he had bought his ticket from. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t awesome either. Then again, he was alone and a clown number was hard to pull without a sidekick.

It was followed by a horse show with a young woman doing figures on their back, directing the four horses and the two zebras the circus owned as if she could speak directly into their minds. It wasn’t too daring, she was obviously playing it safe, but the girl was pretty and she shyly waved at the crowd as Effie announced her off.

There was a boring strength number from a kid who piled up weights as if it still interested people to watch people flex and lift things up… If, at least, he had been lifting _interesting_ stuff but no…

Gale Hawthorne didn’t convince him and if the lukewarm applause was to be believed, he didn’t convince the crowd either. That being said, he was far more amusing when he was tied to a spinning wheel and Johanna Mason tossed axes at him.

Why she needed to wear two thin pieces of spandex while she was doing that was anyone’s guess but it worked. She was better at throwing axes than Haymitch used to be at throwing knives.

Then came Prim and her lion. Buttercup obediently jumped through loops and opened his mouth so she could place her little head between his pointy teeth. It was classic and not too original but she was so young it worked anyway and the crowd was wild for her.

“Primrose Everdeen!” Effie Trinket cheerfully shouted, making the applause double.

There were more numbers. A girl and a boy called Glimmer and Marvel had a sword swallower act going. A little black girl around the same age as the lion girl performed an aerial silk number that made him check several times that the safety net was in place. _Rue The Bird_ , Effie cheerfully called at the end. Well, Rue was _exceptionally_ good at what she did. Then came a boy called Thresh who did some acrobatics figures with a trampoline…

And when he was done another young man announced Effie Trinket which wasn’t the norm. The ringleader called the number, no matter if they were performing next or not. But he understood why she wasn’t the one manning the mic when he spotted her at the top of the tent. She had lost the black boots.

The next thing he realized was that they had rolled off the safety net.

His mouth ran dry.

Rationally, he knew nobody would have taken that decision lightly, even to add a _wow_ factor to the show. If she was going up there without a back-up plan, it was because she _could_ , and yet…

She was a posh girl from a posh family, so what did she know? You didn’t just wake up one day and buy a circus… You were born into it or life tossed you that way but you didn’t just…

She was walking the tightrope, strutting on that thin line as if she was strolling down the street. She _danced_ , unconcerned by the void underneath…

And then she did a cartwheel and his heart _might_ have stopped beating in his chest. The rope was far from being steady, he could see it from down there, the swaying was light but at that height it was enough to be fatal. It took her a second to find her balance back and more than one person in the audience gasped and then cheered when she took a bow, apparently unbothered that she had almost plummeted to her death.

Another cartwheel and she fell…

Haymitch’s heart _did_ stop in his chest, certain he was about to witness a gruesome accident.

And then he gaped when he realized it was _deliberate_. She was hanging from that rope by _a foot_ , her curly hair was swinging under her head… Once the shock was off, the audience cheered and clapped.

He brought the flask he had been steadily drinking from since the start of the show to his lips and then put it away. She had done the impossible and put him off liquor.

She righted herself on the rope – he wasn’t sure _how_ because that had never really been his area of expertise but he had watched Mags fly in the air often enough to know there were a thousand tricks – and then she did a somersault and …

The only thought in Haymitch’s head was that she was determined to _break her neck_. There was no safety net and no way she would grab that rope back…

But she never intended to…

Someone caught her in mid-air. The young man who had announced her.

The cheering was loud and enthusiastic. Trapeze acts were always popular but Haymitch had to admit this one was particularly good. He could see Mags’ touch in it. The guy made it look simple and Trinket made it look like she had always been meant to fly. They exchanged trapezes, did figures, caught each other at the last possible moment…

By the time they made it back on the ground, Haymitch was clapping with everyone else.

“Finnick Odair!” Trinket called out, a little out of breath, once Rue had run back to her with the mic.

The young man took an exaggerated deep bow and sent kisses to the audience who bought into that like a charm. Music rang out and all the performers trickled back in, singing what probably was the circus’ anthem. It wasn’t in synch and, just like the opening number, it left a lot to be desired.

Still, the audience seemed to like it. They were all happy and smiling when they wandered out of the tent, guided by the clown who had sold tickets before the show. Haymitch followed them down the bleachers until he was back on even ground, hesitated, and then wandered on the ring…

_Oh, the memories…_

The heat of the spotlights was still the same, still enough to make him sweat in his jacket. He rubbed his mouth, the stubble irritating his palm.

_Haymitch Abernathy, The Victor Illusionist!_

_Ladies and Gentlemen, clap for your ringleader!_

“Sir, this way please…” the clown called out to him.

He crashed back to the present with a start. He was the last one in the tent. He glanced at the flap from which all the performers had come from and he felt torn.

He should leave.

He knew that.

He didn’t belong there.

It wasn’t the _Quell Circus_. His mother wouldn’t be backstage collecting costumes that needed repairs and his brother wouldn’t be checking all the animals had water, food and clean hay and Mabel wouldn’t be waiting for him, an easy joke on her lips… And the others… The others were either dead or scattered around the globe in different circuses if they hadn’t been tossed in the green hell that was Nam already…

He didn’t belong there.

But he didn’t belong to the stream of spectators either.

The hay stuck to his soles when he took a few hesitant steps toward the flap that hid the artists’ entrance.

“Sir…” the clown frowned behind him.

“I’ve got an appointment with your ringleader.” he lied without even a glance for the kid. They shouldn’t let the clown do the placing and crowd ushering anyway. Clowns weren’t supposed to talk, it broke the magic.

Backstage, it was the usual chaos he remembered well. People were walking around the small space, laughing or shouting out to each other, reliving the show and its mishaps… A draft of cold air was sweeping in from the open entrance at the back of the tent… He spotted Trinket easily enough.

She was talking to the archer-slash-fire-eater.

He sidestepped the little aerial silk artist and ignored her curious gaze, ignored the way the acrobat with the trampoline immediately gathered her close when he spotted a stranger in their midst… Brother and sister, maybe.

Haymitch marched on straight to the ringleader in her red and gold bodice but smirked at the kid she was talking with.

“Nice dress.” he told her, his eyes narrowing on the cleverly hidden mechanisms on her sleeves. Then he glanced at Trinket and lifted his eyebrows, letting his gaze travel down the short expanse of red fabric. “Not yours.”

She pursed her lips but they twitched in what he thought to be amusement anyway. Her eyes were narrowed and she planted her hands on her hips. “Are you always drunk, Mr Abernathy?”

He hadn’t been sure she had picked up on that the previous day. He shrugged, his smirk deepening. “Afraid so.”

They stared at each other for a while. She averted her eyes first, glancing at the girl who was frowning and then looking back at him. “I am glad to see you. I was not confident you would come.”

“What can I say… I’m a masochist.” he retorted.

She pursed her lips harder and he decided irritating her could quickly become a favorite hobby of his. She was too easy to rile up.

“Dare I ask what you thought of the show?” Her voice curbed into forced civility. She was the kind of person who was always polite, he supposed.

“You need an opening number that doesn’t want to make people go to sleep. The closing number sucks and everything you’re offering’s been done a hundred times.” he said frankly. “You’re common and that’s not gonna cut it in this day and age. Ten, twenty years ago, that would have been okay but now people want sensational and you’re not selling it.”

Trinket took it on the chin like a pro. Her face was set in a mask of polite interest, she didn’t even _blink_.

The girl though. She _choked._

“Who the _hell_ do you think you are?” the kid snapped, loud enough that all the artists who had still been hanging around turned toward them.

“Just a simple guy who knows a thing or two about circus life.” he snorted. “By the way, you might want _not_ to tug so hard on that string when you do your final fireball thing… Bit obvious, sweetheart.” The kid could sneer, he would give her that. “And you’ve got as much charm as a slug. Might want to work on _that_ too.”

“Please, _do_ try _not_ to antagonize everyone on your first night.” Trinket winced.

“First night?” the girl repeated with clear alarm. “What do you mean _first night_?”

A few of the others had gathered and Haymitch rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t mean anything ‘cause I haven’t said yes yet.”

“You are here, isn’t that answer enough?” Trinket challenged. Her face suddenly lit up and she darted a hand toward her trapeze partner who had just entered the tent to see what the commotion was about. “Finnick! Come here! Mr Abernathy, this is Finnick Odair. Mags’ grandson.”

Haymitch frowned, a little shocked. He had known Mags all his life and he had never known she had had children…

“Adopted.” the young man said, as if reading his mind. He outstretched a hand that Haymitch shook. “It’s good to meet you, though. I’ve heard a lot about you…”

“Abernathy?” another kid repeated. The blond girl who swallowed swords.

“Like the magician?” the black little girl who did aerial silk piped up, excitement in her eyes. “You’re famous!”

Was he still? He had been once upon a time. Posters with his name plastered around towns were guaranteed to bring people to the circus the next night. But that had been almost a decade ago now. Before he went to Vietnam, when he had still been young. Sixteen at most. Afterwards… Afterwards he had come back to a circus that was quickly falling apart and he had stepped up because someone needed to. He had been too busy running it to spend time on his acts. The daring innovative magician who always wanted to do more, go bigger, had started relying on what he knew how to do. Mabel had started getting bored to play his assistant even… She had been developing her cards tricks into an act of her own… And then, of course, the fire… 

“You’re joining?” Finnick asked, hopeful but not surprised. Unlike the others.

Mags had sent Trinket to him, after all, so it wasn’t that surprising that the young man would be aware that the woman had sought him out.

“What do we need a magician for?” the fire girl grumbled, a scowl on her face. “He hated the show and we’re doing just fine.”

“You need a magician ‘cause a magician’s job is to distract the audience and dazzle them into seeing things that aren’t there. Like _talent_.” he said quietly, reaching behind the little girl’s ear and producing a coin seemingly out of thin air. It was a cheap trick. One that he had mastered when he was five. One that he hadn’t pulled in years. The aerial silk girl grinned at him and snatched the coin. He looked back at the scowling girl and shrugged. “That’s also the job of a ringleader, turns out.”

“Effie’s our ringleader.” the girl snapped back.

“Not out of choice.” Trinket cut in calmly. “And we _do_ lack an artistic vision since Mags passed, Katniss.” It was plain to see the girl didn’t like it and Trinket sighed. “Please, can you go check Annie and Prim have the animals covered?” Then, she turned to her partner. “Finnick, will you…”

“I’ve got it, Effie.” the young man smiled. “I’m gonna help Gale and Peeta dismantle and then I’m gonna make sure everything is loaded and ready to go.”

“Thank you.” she beamed. “Mr Abernathy, if you would…”

She gestured at the tent’s entrance and he stepped outside, almost shocked by how freezing it was. He had been so caught up in the circus, he hadn’t realized how low the temperature had dropped. Circus life tended to do that to him. Got his blood flowing.

Unless, of course, it was the ringleader and her tight red bodice…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's face it, he was never going to be able to resist that ringleader oufit ;) Let me know your thoughts!


	3. Conditions

They had walked all the way past the animals plot when Haymitch grew tired of her shivering. He rolled his eyes, shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it to her.

She looked up at him, startled, but she did take the jacket.

“I did not expect you to be a gentleman.” she remarked.

“Don’t get used to it, sweetheart.” he warned.

“ _Effie_.” she reminded him with disapproval.

The night was alive with the familiar noises of the circus uprooting itself but there were fewer voices than he expected. The sounds of hammers and metal were few and far in between. That made him frown.

“Where is your work crew?” he asked.

There should have been more people bustling around, men mostly, responsible for the dismantling and then, later on, the setting up. There should have been coarse jokes to keep warm in the dead of night, whistling, maybe some singing to keep the pace even…

“We do most of everything ourselves.” she told him. “We have a ghost crew and I sometimes hire local men but… Mostly it is just us.”

He paused at that, long enough that she outpaced him and was forced to stop and look back at him.

“You _can’t_ function without a work crew.” He frowned. “So _what_ … You’re putting everything up, performing, dismantling everything and driving to the next spot?”

“I know it isn’t ideal.” she winced.

“It’s _dangerous_. That’s what it is.” he scoffed. The safety measures alone… Ten people didn’t make a circus, no matter how well meaning. “Sure, it’s cheaper this way but…”

“It is not all about money.” she interrupted. “Finding able men for this sort of work currently… It is _difficult_. Gale used to do it in another circus, he double-checks everything.”

“So he’s good for something at least ‘cause let me tell you his act’s the weakest.” he snorted without much amusement. “Finding you a work crew is the first order of business, sweetheart.”

“And how do you propose to do that? End the war all by yourself and bring all the boys home?” she deadpanned. 

“Tried that. Didn’t work out.” he retorted, his tone not as light as he would have liked. He dismissed that with a sweep of his hand. “I know a guy. Best foreman in the business.”

“And he isn’t…” she hesitated.

“He’s been back for a while now.” he finished when her sentence trailed off. He also crossed the distance between them and let her lead him toward the dark shapes of the trailers. “Medical discharge. Like me. Ain’t you lucky.”

Her eyes studied him in the darkness but she was too polite to ask and he didn’t volunteer the information. There was a limit to what a human body could do and asking him to go back after he had been sliced open to the point of having to hold his guts inside his body with his hands or die in a swamp was one of them. A sergeant had tried once. He had even tried to give him a fancy medal and a purple ribbon. For surviving when everyone else in his squad had died. For surviving when younger kids had not.

“Put my name out there, I bet you’re gonna have a few men from my old crew turning up.” he added after a moment. “Those who are around at least.”

“If I put your name out there, can I consider you are joining?” she hummed. “It might be a little awkward if people _do_ turn up on your reputation alone and you are not there to welcome them.”

He remained silent longer than it was polite or normal. He _didn’t want_ to join. He had given up that life when the flames had devoured everything he had held dear. He could have found a place elsewhere at the time, any other circus would have welcomed him, but he had sworn to himself he was done.

Done, done, _done_.

One glance at the Big Top, one sniff of that particular _smell_ , one note of music and he was _yearning_ for it like he hadn’t been in years. Not unlike the liquor he had addicted himself to. Cut it off and it was painful. Indulge and it could kill you. There was no middle ground.

“I’m out of practice.” he said quietly, just when they stopped at what he supposed to be her trailer.

“I do not think Rue would agree.” She flashed him a smile, opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it open for him. “You charmed her quite thoroughly.”

The inside was exactly like the thousand trailers he had seen before it: small and crammed, every bit of space available exploited to the maximum. There was a single bed in the corner, a dressing table full of make-up that must have doubled as a desk and table since there were also papers, pens and a mug on it, a screen that probably hid a small bathroom, and two clothes rails full of dresses and costumes. Two clothes rails in such a tight place seemed over the top but before he could make the remark, she waved at him to take the stool in front of the dressing table and sat down at the foot of her bed.

The bed was made and he spotted boxes neatly lined up underneath. Actually, for a trailer, everything was too clean and he wondered if she was one of those people who had to obsessively control their environment.

“I cannot promise the salary will be fantastic.” she warned. “And I am aware that you would be justified to ask for higher wages given your experience and…”

“I don’t care much about money.” he interrupted. “But I don’t have any props and I don’t have a trailer anymore.”

“We can work something out, I am sure.” she dismissed, reaching for a notebook next to him on the dresser.

The trailer really wasn’t that big and when she leaned toward him, he caught a whiff of her perfume and a good look at her cleavage. Both of which made his blood ran straight south. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, wedging his left ankle on his right knee in hope it would hide any telling sign. She shot him a look but if she figured it out, she was good enough not to comment.

The ledger was expertly kept. Rows of numbers aligned in black ink, all clear and annotated.

“I was _shit_ at that.” he remarked without a good reason, nodding at the notebook. He used to scribble down sums on various papers that he always ended up losing and nothing had aggravated him as much as being forced to keep tabs on everything.

“Language.” she rebuked without even looking up. He wondered how much chiding she had to do around the kids on a daily basis to do it so mechanically. “I am very good at bookkeeping and I also excel at advertising. Show running, however, is not my _forte_.”

“I’m great at show running.” he admitted without an ounce of humility. It wasn’t pride either. It was just a fact. He had always been good at it.

It wasn’t surprising she was good with numbers though. She probably came from a fancy school. He had never been to school once in his life. All he knew, his mother or various members of the circus had taught him. He could read, he could write and he could count well enough. The rest… The rest he had taught himself or the army had given him a crash course in it.

Nobody had taught him how to kill either. It seemed he had just been a natural at it. But those thoughts he chased before they could suffocate him. Her trailer wasn’t the right place to think about Nam – fortunately the bright colorful outfits blocked the green memories of the jungle well enough.

“Mags said so.” she hummed. “She thought it was a shame you weren’t in the business anymore.”

He leaned over and fished his flask from the pocket of the jacket she still had over her shoulders. He didn’t mean to brush her thigh on the way but… Her blue eyes were riveted on him and she licked her lips. He tilted his head a little to the side, studying her…

He might have put his hand back on her leg a little more purposefully if she hadn’t cleared her throat. “So… You will become our new ringleader, a costume I will _gladly_ hand over to you, and…”

“Ain’t sure that corset would look _that_ good on me…” he cut her off with a smirk that might have been a leer.

“Do not sell yourself short.” she replied and it was almost a purr. Her eyes flickered down to his crossed legs and then back up. “As I was saying, you will become our ringleader and…”

“And that means I’m gonna be in charge of the show.” he said firmly, all flirting put aside because if he was doing this, if he was _seriously_ doing this, he wasn’t going to dive into a failing business. “That also means you and your crew ain’t gonna like some of the stuff I say but you’re gonna have to trust I know what I’m doing.”

“What will you change?” she asked in a matter of fact sort of voice. “I am aware we are not exceptional but…”

“You’ve got potential. Some of you.” he shrugged, taking a sip of moonshine. “That fire girl?”

“Katniss.” she supplied.

“Katniss, yeah.” he repeated with a smile. “She’s got something, that one. I can train her a bit, help her build a better act… That’s your leading number right there. That’s the one you want to advertise on.”

“Alright.” she accepted easily. “I do also plan on advertising you, you realize.”

“Yeah.” he sighed. He supposed that was part of the game. “I’m gonna need an assistant.”

“Any of the girls will be willing, I believe.” She nodded. “Rue, perhaps. She is good at following instructions.”

“I need a woman not a little girl.” he denied, eyes twinkling. “A sexy one.” She pursed her lips and he lifted his hand and his flask defensively – or pretending to be defensive at least. “It’s all about distracting the audience, sweetheart…”

“In this case, you can have Johanna.” she replied. “She _does_ love to parade around half naked.”

Johanna, if he remembered right, was the one who threw axes. Young and pretty in her style.

“Too young.” he refused.

“To distract the audience?” she mocked. Her expression didn’t change but there was a sudden hard glint in her eyes. “I must warn you, as valuable as I would find your joining us, I would _not_ take kindly to you seducing any of my girls. They are young and impressionable.”

“You always talk like a dictionary?” he teased and, when she didn’t bite, he rolled his eyes. “That’s my point, sweetheart. Being a magician’s assistant is more than just looking pretty… It means trust and a close working bond. That can lead to… other stuff and I don’t really care to drag someone around who makes puppy eyes at me.”

“Johanna will probably try to sleep with you before you leave camp tonight anyway.” she predicted with aggravated resolve. “It’s her way. Just say no and be clear about it.”

“Possessive, are you?” he smirked.

“She is of age.” she continued, ignoring him. “And so is Annie, so I suppose I cannot _stop_ you from pursuing them but the other ones are _not_. Katniss and Glimmer are sixteen and seventeen respectively and if you _so much_ as look at them the wrong way…”

“They’re kids, the lot of them.” he scoffed, more insulted than he let on. “Ain’t that kind of pervert so save yourself the speech. I don’t want the axe bird either, I want you.”

The double-meaning hadn’t been on purpose. Or if it had been it was his subconscious playing tricks on him.

The tension rose up a notch and he was suddenly very aware of the small space, the closed door and the closed window. Claustrophobia had never really been a problem before but right then…

“I am a trapeze artist.” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “Who will double as a magician assistant without problems and who won’t give me sass while she does it.”.

She studied him for a few seconds and then looked away, her eyebrows twitching. “I would _not_ be so confident about _that_.”

But sass from her, he could take. Sass from a girl who looked barely twenty and who, he could tell from her performance alone, would think herself too good to be a mere distraction, not so much. She would either sulk or go the complete way around and be too sultry. Either way she would try to steal the spotlight.

Trinket, he was sure, would know what to do. She was good at keeping a mask on, two meetings had been enough to ascertain that. 

“I will do it until we find someone else.” she finally agreed as if people were in a habit of regularly wandering into her circus and staying. “Any other… requests?”

“Booze.” he demanded, taking another sip of his flask to mark his word. “Enough of it to keep me going, not enough that I’m gonna be drunk on the ring. Can’t have that if I’m gonna cut you in two…”

The distaste on her face was obvious. “Is that _entirely_ necessary?”

He supposed she meant the booze and not the cutting.

“If you want me, yeah.” He watched her, watched the distaste turn into reluctant acceptance.

“Very well.” she gave in. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, one question…” And he had waited to ask it. He wasn’t sure why because it was a _glaring_ one. “Where are the other adults?”

She didn’t seem surprised he had noticed. “As I said, Johanna and Annie are of age. So is Finnick. Gale and Thresh will be very soon.”

“Ain’t what I asked.” he countered, folding his arms in front of his chest. “How come you’re the _only_ _adult_ around?”

“Careful, Mr Abernathy, a woman vexes easily. _Why_ , are you saying I look _old_?” she laughed.

He would have been hard-pressed to call her old. She couldn’t be much more than twenty-five. Which raised a lot more of questions…

“Haymitch.” he corrected. “You want this to work, stop calling me _that_. I’m just Haymitch.”

“You never invited me to use your first name and, unlike you, I tend not to be rude about what I call people.” she retorted with a coquettish smile that was aimed at distracting him, at making him forget what he had just asked. Yeah, she would be the perfect diversion to his tricks. 

His lips twitched but he swallowed back his amusement. “Couldn’t help noticing you’ve got _at least_ five kids here that are of army age. You wouldn’t be smuggling potential deserters all around the country now, right?”

She remained silent a little too long and then she leaned back, letting his jacket slip off her shoulders in a move that looked accidental but that he suspected to be purposeful. His gaze followed the leather as it brushed against the skin of her arms, wondering if it was as soft as it looked…

It had been too long since he had been with a woman. There had been a few after Mabel, drunken one night stands he had regretted in the morning and whose faces he couldn’t remember… But the last one… The last one had been a while ago and _Effie Trinket_ … Well… She was that kind of woman you couldn’t help but _desire_. She exuded sensuality but not in a way that was off-putting. It was subtle, there in every breath but deniable if pressed. It was her confidence that attracted him the most though, the proud tilt of her chin, the way she refused to let him have the last word…

“And if I am?” she challenged, crossing her legs at the ankle. His eyes drifted there because that was the point anyway. She wanted him to look at her, to _desire_ her… He wondered if she would have gone so far as to sleep with him to buy his silence and then decided it was better he _didn’t_ know.

“If you are, then I’m with you. No question asked.” he offered.

She hadn’t been certain she would get _that_ answer, he could tell, but the tension left her shoulders at once and she flashed him a genuine bright smile that was somehow even more breathtaking than her seductive ones.

“Welcome to _Capitol Circus_ , Haymitch.”

**__ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify because the question was raised last week: yes hayffie is younger than in canon (Haymitch is close to thirty when Effie is a little younger) but everyone else has canon age.
> 
> So what did you think of their talk? Are sparks already flying or what? Will they manage with Effie as his assistant? Will it be a total disaster? Let me know your thoughts!


	4. Come Alive

Haymitch and Effie Trinket had _very_ different ideas about how a circus ought to be run.

In the space of five days, Haymitch found a hundred things to fight with her about.

The fights usually started early, around a cup of coffee near the trailer that served as a kitchen, and ended late at night around one of the campfires.

He hated the absence of a work crew and the lack of a good foreman. Gale did his best, that was certain, but he was just a kid and he didn’t have the eye yet. A circus was a big thing and a hundred things could go wrong in one day, any detail left unchecked could lead to a disaster and Haymitch spent half his time checking and rechecking behind Gale to the boy’s clear exasperation. And that was without even considering the fact that without a work crew nobody was really keeping watch – and the dangers weren’t always coming from _inside_ ; outsiders were rarely welcoming and there had been precedents of town inhabitants attacking circus people for the fun of it.

He had also warned Effie that letting Prim walk her lion around on a leash was a bad idea but she claimed the girl could handle herself and her animal every time he insisted they needed a proper animal trainer. Buttercup, to be fair, hissed and roared at everyone who wasn’t the little girl but was otherwise not very _lion-y_. He did behave like a puppy more than like a gigantic cat.

The equipment wasn’t exactly new either and if he could make do with the props for his performances, he was less satisfied when he inspected the ropes that held the trapezes. The safety net and Rue’s silk were in pristine conditions and when he confronted Trinket about it she said the money went first where it was needed. Her safety – and Finnick’s – he had argued, _was_ a priority too but she had dismissed that with a wave of her hand and had promised to keep the safety net for their next performances until they had repaired the ropes if that would make him stop harassing her.  

And that was without mentioning the old trucks that could easily lose a wheel, the locks on the sisters’ trailer that didn’t work properly – though, to be fair, Katniss’ arrows were dissuasive enough – and the distance she insisted they covered in as little time as possible just so they could stick to her _bloody_ schedules.

By the fifth day on the road, everyone was tired of their endless arguments but he had an act ready and a good idea of how to turn the whole show into something else. Something better.

Now if only he could get the rest of them to cooperate…

He was the odd man out, of course. He was the stranger and he knew it would take time for them to stop mistrusting him. The whole thing wasn’t helped by the fact that he was taking over what had, until then, been Trinket’s prerogative. Trinket, he discovered soon enough, was the link between them all and even those who seemed to despise her for her cheerfulness or her background were _deadly_ _loyal_ to her. They thought he was trying to replace her and that wasn’t going down well. Besides she had apparently been willing enough to let them work on their own act without a lot of supervision.

He, on the other hand, put his nose in everyone’s business. For most of them, he only gave pointers. The only ones he really got involved with were Gale – because that act was just sad and pathetic and needed to be reworked from top to bottom – and Katniss because she had caught his eyes and he was willing to teach if she was willing to learn. Which, as it turned out, she was _not_.

To her credit, Trinket did try to get them all to cooperate but they didn’t want to listen and at the mere words of a musical opening act, they always scattered before he could get them to rehearse.

“They will come around.” she promised with a forced smile, late one night, as he sat on the metal steps leading to his trailer – a trailer that had still been a storage truck until very recently and barely had a mattress inside. “Just give it time.”

He _tried_ to give it time but he had forgotten just how living in so close quarters with people you didn’t really know could be difficult.

The little kids were nice enough. Prim was a kind girl who always made sure he had his share of food and Rue tended to follow him around like a second shadow, eager for any demonstration of his skills. Rusty skills. He wasn’t as quick or deft with his fingers as he used to be and the Victor Illusionist had fallen far from where he used to stand but the girls were easy to please and the small tricks were good training so he usually humored them.

The other teenagers usually stuck together and gave him a wide uncertain berth, except for Katniss who seemed to be a loner and had made it very clear she didn’t want nor needed his _help_.

Finnick, Annie and Johanna were a little more approachable but not by much. He had a couple of conversations with Finnick about Mags… Annie was a shy girl who hardly ever left Finnick’s side and it was rare not to see them wandering around camp holding hands at night… She was passionate about horses and animals in general but that wasn’t really Haymitch’s scene… As for Johanna…

“Would you get dressed?” Trinket snapped at the young woman the morning of their first performance together. “I run a circus suitable for families, not a peep show.”

Haymitch smirked in his cup of coffee but silently agreed.

Johanna had, once more, stepped out of her trailer wearing boy shorts and nothing else. It seemed to be a habit of hers.

He had nothing against breasts – and they were _fine_ breasts – but he had to admit her tendency to walk around naked was a little disturbing. She liked to distract the boys, she liked to have the attention on her and undressing in front of them seemed to be her favorite trick. She had been trying to get a rise – literal and otherwise – out of Haymitch since the very first day and was particularly vexed by his repeated refusal.

It was fine for now because it was only _them,_ the core group, and the boys were young enough still to simply stutter and look away red in the face. Finnick usually laughed it off and gently convinced her to go get something on. Haymitch tended to ignore it like he would a child’s temper tantrum, which only led to angering her but had seemed to reassure Trinket he wasn’t about to sleep his way through them all.

Once there would be a work crew though… They would have to keep an eye on her, make sure there were no problems… A girl like her couldn’t flash her breasts to the world and not expect troubles. She was too young and too pretty and he would be damned if anything happened to her on his watch.

He wasn’t sure how Trinket had survived that long being the only adult around, truth be told. It had been easier when Mags had still been around, that much she admitted to him between two shouting matches about how a circus ought to be run. Mags had been taking care of what he was now in charge of: show running and…

It had occurred to him before the first day was through that if he stuck around for good, if that was something that was going to last, he was going to have to step up into a role he wasn’t sure he wanted.

Trinket was everyone’s mother.

She comforted, cajoled, scolded and kept them all in line without batting an eyelash.

As the only other adult around, and one more or less in charge at that… It was only a matter of time before they started turning to him too.

He wasn’t sure he was interested in playing father to that weird disjointed family.

He was pretty sure the whole thing was a big mistake.

A feeling that only increased ten-fold on the first night he had to actually perform. They weren’t too far out of Columbus and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. He was bent in two outside the main tent, his hands on his thighs, gulping the fresh air and trying to remember where he had left his flask and if he would have time to go fetch it before it started – the answer to that was _no_ , they were about ready to start. Everyone was already inside, waiting for the opening act.

The brand new ringleader uniform Trinket had sewed for him felt tight on his shoulders, the red of the open jacket with its black lapels was too bright, the golden waistcoat too flashy, the still undone bowtie impossible to knot…

“Have you seen your friend yet?” Trinket asked, slipping out of the Big Top as if they had just been in the middle of a conversation.

He shook his head. He had sent word to the last place he knew his best friend to have been: a homeless shelter in Chicago. He hoped the message would spread and reach him somehow. They _needed_ a foreman who wasn’t seventeen and too full of himself to listen to Haymitch.

Trinket clucked her tongue and placed a hand on his shoulder, nudging him just enough that he automatically straightened up.

“This was a bad idea, sweetheart.” he told her straight. “Can’t do this anymore. This…”

“Do not be _preposterous_.” she chided him, placing the top hat she had been carrying on his head and handing him the walking stick he preferred to her whip. “You will be _fabulous_. Now. Eyes bright, chin up and smile on, Haymitch.”

_She_ looked fabulous.

Her blond hair was hidden beneath a cotton candy pink wig adorned with golden stars. Her outfit was equally golden and shimmered under the pale lights of the stars and the distant glows of the lamps. There were feathers at her shoulders and the short skirt floated around her waist, not long enough to hide the curve of her sequin clad ass…

“You’ve got a thing for looking ridiculous?” he mocked, his mouth oddly parched.

She spared him an annoyed glance, as if she could perfectly tell he didn’t think a word of it, and reached for the undone bowtie. She worked on it slowly but expertly and he had a feeling she was taking her time for his sake, so he had time to collect himself.

“There you go.” she grinned once she was done and the familiar weight of the bowtie hung around his neck. “How _dashing_.”

Her hand brushed his chest on the way down, too slowly for it to be an accident. She was standing very close and when she looked up he could have counted her fake eyelashes. She hadn’t gone easy on the glitter and there was a ton of it on her eyelids. He didn’t find it as off-putting as he had thought he would.

There was a _hair_ of space between them and all Haymitch would have had to do…

His grey eyes darted to her lips and back up again…

“Hey, we’re ready to start!” Finnick shouted, lifting the tent’s flap without warning. The boy’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Oops_ , sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Haymitch grumbled, ducking to get inside. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The opening number could have been better if the others had been willing to sing with him and if they had had real musicians instead of records. He put that on the list of things he needed to run by Trinket: find cheap musicians for hire. The number _could_ work though. The fact that the audience clapped and attempted to take up the song with him proved that much.

“Good evening, Zanesville!” he roared while the others cleared the ring, the parade over.

And just like that, he was back into the swing of things.

He barely noticed the show fly by. He announced their numbers, putting enough cheer and making it interesting enough that the audience was hyped before they even performed. Some of the acts still made him cringe but he was pleased to see a couple of the kids had taken his pointers to heart and had attempted to correct a few things.

He was nervous when his turn came, the whole thing made more difficult by the fact he _still_ had to enthrall the audience while he tried not to make a fool of himself. Trinket was a wonderful assistant though. She dazzled the crowd. She shone so bright under the spotlights with that dress that it might even have been literal.

For the first night, he started easy. Rabbit out of his top hat, mysterious coins appearing out of nowhere behind one of the woman’s ears in the front row, plucking a flower from Trinket’s cleavage – she somehow wasn’t a fan of that one… He made her disappear and reappear… The audience lapped it up but he was only too aware that it was all cheap tricks and that there was a matter of pot and kettle when he told the others they needed to do better if they wanted to build a reputation that would bring people in to see them.

“A round of applause for my lovely assistant!” he called out once he was done, leading her to the center of the ring by the hand. She squeezed his fingers when she bowed and he wasn’t sure if that was meant as congratulations or encouragements.

He might have stared at her ass for a second too long when she ran out of the ring to be replaced by Prim and Buttercup. They also needed to work on transitions because the way Gale and Peeta rushed around to take out and replace the material wasn’t very professional. Then again, maybe he should just put some make-up on Gale’s face and let them make a show of it as clowns. Assuming the serious teenager could be funny. Peeta had no problem laughing at himself but that wasn’t easy for everyone.

He stepped to the edge of the ring when he announced Trinket’s number, not pleased to see that the safety net had been folded again. It was more impressive certainly but given the state of the ropes he spent the whole time holding his breath, his guts clenching in fear that something would go wrong.

He watched her pretend to fall, he watched her jump and dance and somersault on that rope… He watched Finnick pluck her out of midair…

He only breathed again when he saw Gale and Peeta lower them to the ground.

“The Fabulous Effie Trinket!” His voice boomed out without him really being aware of it. “And the _Capitol_ ’s Darling Finnick Odair!”

They took their bows and then the music started again, a little too quickly, and he was swept up in the closing number that needed as much work as the opening one.

He was sweaty, exhausted but chuckling with everyone else when they all escaped backstage. Before he knew what was happening, his arms were full of a golden woman who had swung her arms around his neck, knocking his top hat off in her enthusiasm.

“That was the _best_ show we _ever_ did!” she screeched in his ear, her voice was too high-pitched. “ _Thank you_!”

He stumbled back one step or two, holding fast to her waist not to drop her… Their eyes met and, once again, he felt that familiar _hunger_ spreading warmth through his belly. The tension was there, had been there from the start, and he wondered how long it would take before…

It was a bad idea.

A very, _very_ bad idea.

She was his boss if nothing else, his partner now that he had made her his assistant, and he wasn’t looking to replace Mabel. He hadn’t asked her to play his assistant just because…

She licked her lips, her face softening in a silent question he had no answer to…

He was almost grateful when someone – who turned out to be Finnick – forcefully put the top hat back on his head, knocking some sense back into him in the process.

“There’s someone looking for you.” the kid said. “He’s outside.”

He let go of Trinket very fast, a smile he didn’t even try to stop on his lips. “Let’s hope it’s your new foreman, Princess.”

“Will you _ever_ stop with the pet names?” she wondered, unwrapping her arms from around his neck and smoothing her dress.

 “Don’t know. You’re ever gonna stop talking like you came out of one of those fancy movies or something?” he snorted.

She rolled her eyes and led him out of the Big Top. There were still a few customers hanging around in front of the circus but it was impossible to miss Chaff. His best friend was a big man and he was standing a little apart from the main crowd, a dark beard eating his face and a frayed bag full to the brim at his feet. Haymitch noticed with the ease of practice that more than a few people were tossing the man dark looks but his built wasn’t encouraging them to pick up a fight. Chaff flashed him a big happy smile as soon as he spotted him.

At his side, Trinket had grown a little hesitant. “You did not tell me he was…”

“Black?” he almost growled because he had seen the crowd’s reaction and that was what his mind was on. “You can’t have a problem with _that_. You’ve got _how many_ colored kids under your wing?”

But if she _did_ have a problem, like half the country seemed to have… If she did, he was out of there.

Racism wasn’t something he could tolerate and he had little patience for entitled white people.

“Of course _not_ , do _not_ be insulting.” she snapped and, for how often he seemed to irritate her, he detected true annoyance this time. “I was simply going to say _disabled_.”

He frowned but it took him a second to notice what she immediately had. The sleeve of his friend’s jacket was empty on his left side. Chaff had written that he had been _injured_ , not that he had lost a _fucking_ limb…

“Haymitch!” Chaff exclaimed with one of his trademark barks of laughter when they came near enough. He outstretched his right hand and Haymitch clasped it, letting himself be dragged into a bear hug. “It’s _damn_ good to see you, buddy… _Damn_ good.”

“You too.” He smirked and hugged him back _hard_ for a moment. He hadn’t seen Chaff since the days after the fire. They had separated amongst ashes and broken, twisted pieces of metal, promising to keep in touch. They had, mostly. Far in between letters that were full of white lies. “You should have called.”

Chaff rolled his eyes. “And what? Crash on your couch and live off your charity? Hell _no_ , buddy.” The man’s voice was deadly serious and he shook his head. “Your letter said you had work for me? Didn’t know you were back in business… Your guys are _rough_ , ain’t at all like the _Quell_ … Your crew’s new or something? And who’s your foreman? Cause let me tell you…”

Trinket cleared her throat. Not in an obtrusive way but softly enough to remind Haymitch he wasn’t alone.

“Ain’t my circus. Just helping straighten a few things out.” he clarified and then gestured at the woman who stepped forward with a big smile and an outstretched hand. If the gasps and whispers from the lingering spectators were anything to go by, there wouldn’t be a lot of people in the audience the next day. And for what? Because she had shaken a black man’s hand in public? The temptation to punch a few of them in the face was overwhelming but before he could act on it, her free hand coiled around his wrist as if she had read his mind. _Again_. He scowled but shrugged the feeling off. “This is Effie Trinket, she’s the boss. Sweetheart, meet Chaff Mitchell. Best guy you can ever get looking after your circus.”

“I am _delighted_ to finally meet you.” Trinket grinned. “Haymitch has nothing but _good_ things to say about you.”

Chaff, he could tell, was puzzled by the whole thing – not only the fact that _he_ would be working for someone else after swearing off the circus life but that her accent was so posh and that she was so obviously not _like them_ and yet didn’t treat them like dirt as the likes of her usually did – but he shook the offered hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

That was the most polite he had ever heard Chaff sound but, then again, women running a circus weren’t common and Haymitch figured it would be an adjustment.

“We’re looking for a foreman.” Haymitch said, going straight to business. “And we’re gonna need a crew so if you know where to find some of the old boys…”

“Can you still work?” Trinket cut in and then winced, but her blue eyes had darted to the empty sleeve. “My apologies, I do not mean to seem rude but it _is_ difficult manual labor and…”

“I _can_ work, ma’am.” Chaff interrupted her, deadly serious. “Look… I work hard, I don’t mind the hours and I know how to run a circus. If you’re looking for a foreman, I’m the man for the job.”

She studied him for a second and then smiled. “You are hired then. I should warn you I cannot offer a lot of money but you will have a roof and food.”

“That’s better than where I come from.” Chaff chuckled and then awkwardly licked his lips. “You’ve got enough room for separate trucks and trailers? Cause…”

He waved at himself and before Haymitch could tell him to stop being stupid – they _weren’t_ going to apply stupid barbaric traditions of separate camps and whatever, _separate but equal his ass_ – Trinket had lifted her hand in the air, cutting that line of conversation short.

“The color of your skin will _not_ be a problem in my circus. In fact, if anyone _ever_ has a problem with that sort of things, you are welcome to send them to me or show them the door yourself.” she declared. “When can you start?”

“Right now.” Chaff answered, looking both thunderstruck and a little in love.

“Perfect.” She beamed. “Let’s go to the Big Top, I will introduce you to the others.”

She strutted away, leaving them to follow after her.

Haymitch clapped his friend’s shoulder because he was still staring and while he knew just how attractive the sequin clad ass was, he disliked the idea of anyone else watching it. Not that he really _cared_. But…

Chaff let out a slow low whistle. “She’s something that one.”

“Troubles.” he snorted. “That’s what she is.”

Troubles or a hurricane that uprooted everything on its path. Even people who had been deeply resolute to drink themselves to death in short order.

His best friend watched him for a second and then started laughing. “Oh, _you_ ’re in trouble alright…”

“Ain’t like _that_.” he grumbled, making sure to keep his voice low enough that she wouldn’t hear. Sounds carried at night.

“You’re sure?” Chaff teased, knocking the top hat off his head like he used to do when they were just boys.

He picked up the hat and answered that with a light shove. For a second, it was just like if the last few years hadn’t happened and they were back at the _Quell Circus_ … Chaff would joke about how Haymitch better not leave his girl waiting too long ‘cause Mabel’s temper was legendary and Haymitch would reply _he_ should hurry and make his feelings for Livia known before someone else swept her off her feet…

But the Big Top’s colors weren’t entirely right, the red too bright compared to the faded tents of the _Quell Circus_ and the laughter inside, while familiar, wasn’t the one from his past…

“I’m gonna be honest here…” Chaff hesitated before they ducked inside. “Never thought you would come back. After… Your mind was pretty much made up.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged. “You know what they say… You can take the boy out of the circus but you can’t take the circus out of the boy.”

Sedentary life had never been for him.

Trinket had gathered the troupe inside and they were all sitting around, talking and joking with each other in that easy camaraderie he hadn’t yet achieved with them. Rue and Prim ran straight to him as soon as they spotted him and asked a dozen questions each about how he had found the show and their respective acts and what they could do to make it better… Chaff, he couldn’t help but notice, completely relaxed as soon as he saw Rue and Thresh freely mingling around, as if he hadn’t entirely trusted Trinket’s promises of unconditional acceptance until then.

“Here you are!” Trinket exclaimed with her usual cheer. “Everyone, this is Mr Mitchell, our new foreman.”

They all lifted a hand or uttered a greeting, watching him curiously. Jo and Katniss, particularly, looked a bit hostile but he knew it had more to do with more strangers invading their lives than with Chaff himself.

Trinket nudged Gale forward by the shoulder and introduced him to Chaff who immediately seemed to grasp what the circus’ problem was when no one else jumped at him to signal they were part of the work crew. Peeta approached after a few minutes and joined in the conversation. So did Finnick…

Trinket chased the rest of them off with a reminder that they should all make sure their respective chores were done before going to bed.

Haymitch escaped to change into a shirt and looser pants before coming back to help put everything away.

“So…” Chaff said, coming to a stop next to him, as they were rolling up extra ropes in the Big Top. “Is this an orphanage or a circus? Where are the adults?”

Haymitch snorted. “And then there were three…” He shook his head. “The sooner you can get a crew together, the better. But… Be careful who you hire.”

At some point, his friend had lost the jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The stump was on display, ugly and ragged like the big swollen scar on Haymitch’s side, and he waved it in the air. “You think I haven’t noticed most of those kids should probably be on their way to Nam right now? Your girl thinks she’s subtle?”

“Ain’t my girl.” he denied. “And they’re good kids.”

“They all are.” Chaff sighed. “And those who ain’t don’t deserve it any more than the others do. I’ve got a few names in mind for the crew. People we can trust.”

He nodded once. “Good.” Then he clasped his best friend’s shoulder again, allowing himself a rare smile. “It’s _fucking_ good to have you back.” 

They retreated to Haymitch’s trailer and caught up around a glass about the things they wouldn’t have been able to say without the cover of the night, the booze or the easy renewed friendship between them. Things that were too big for letters and too difficult for sobriety.

Chaff had been called to serve well after Haymitch and what he had to say about the development of the war almost made him glad that he had gone early and didn’t have to ever go back. _Butchers_. That was what they had all become out there, _butchers_. The tales his best friend had to share were enough to make his blood curl and Haymitch was pretty sure he was holding back on the most gruesome ones.

Chaff told him about how difficult living in a big city had started to be for people like him, about the pacific demonstrations and the violence they encountered… He talked about that famous minister he had gone to listen to who called for nonviolence and civil disobedience and who had so greatly impressed him… He told him it wasn’t about racism anymore but that veterans were an uncomfortable reminder and that nobody really wanted to see them, particularly when they came back wounded or not too right in the head. He talked of institutions and clinics and homeless shelters overflowing with men who had lost everything…

In return, Haymitch told him about the last couple of years, about living mostly of scraps in a shack that he rented for far too high a price… He told him about the nightmares that still haunted him, the ghosts that visited him sometimes… Not in so many words, of course, but his best friend was good at reading between the lines. He told him about the shakes when he stayed too long off liquor, how frightened that made him because… He used to be the best knives thrower in the circus and now he would have been lucky to hit the side of a trailer… He confessed the prospects of living sober was too daunting to even consider getting off the stuff. He admitted in raw whispers how often he had considered turning his knife against himself because he had already been dead and buried in that tomb of a house so…

He didn’t tell him about the splash of red of Effie Trinket’s dress against the washed out white of the landscape.

He didn’t tell him she might have saved him when she had come to fetch him just as surely as she was saving the kids she was harboring.

He was pretty sure he didn’t need to.

It was late when Chaff left to find the trailer he had been shown earlier but Haymitch was too keyed up to sleep. The adrenaline surge of going back on the ring, being reunited with Chaff, the sheer knowledge that six days earlier he had still been certain he would never go back to circus life… He buried in his leather jacket and walked around the trailer lot, not sure where he was going until his feet took him to the only trailer with a light still on.

He would have walked on if Trinket hadn’t been sitting outside despite the freezing weather, wrapped in her fur coat, the red glow of a cigarette floating next to her face. She was holding the coat closed and he couldn’t tell what she was wearing underneath but his mind took him places that were probably better not visited.

He wondered what she wore to bed. Not pajamas and not long nightgowns, that was for sure. Her legs were bared.

Their eyes met and he crossed the distance before he could stop himself, lured toward her like a moth to the glow of her cigarette.

Perhaps she slept naked, he mused. Her skin would be creamy and soft and he was _aching_ to tug that coat off her shoulders, to…

“It is late.” she commented, shifting to the edge of the metallic step leading up to her trailer so he had enough room to sit next to her. He did. He wasn’t sure it was wise but _he did_. She offered him a battered cigarette pack. “Do you want one?” 

“I gave it up years ago.” he refused with a shake of the head. And he had liked rolling his own cigarettes even then. The taste of tobacco was stronger, _better_.

“I quit regularly.” She shrugged. He felt the movement against his own shoulder, their sides were pressed together and he could feel her warmth through the leather of his jacket and the fur of her coat. “But somehow I always come back to it. A cigarette before bed is my guilty pleasure.”

“Better than a bottle of moonshine, I guess.” he snorted.

“You are drunk again.” she commented.

“Buzzed. At best.” he corrected.

“That is too bad.” she declared, tilting her head back to blow out a long string of smoke, exposing her throat to his hungry gaze. Deliberate, of course, and tempting. _Oh so tempting_ … “I do like you better sober.”

She crushed what was left of her cigarette on the ground. That made him nervous but she made sure the cigarette butt was out before standing up and stretching her arms over her head, making the coat ride high on her thighs. He was close enough to see the goosebump on her skin and he almost leaned in and kissed it. _Almost_.

She walked up the step and opened the door of her trailer and he watched her leave, want and hunger coiling in his belly.

“I like you better without that crap on your face.” he shot back, a little too late.

Did she smile? He couldn’t tell because she didn’t look back.

He was half-hoping she would leave the door open in invitation but she closed it after wishing him sweet dreams.

Not a good night but _sweet dreams_.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had dreams that weren’t full of flames or of the oppressing greenery of a jungle…

And yet, when he crashed on his bed that night, it was to wrap his hand around himself and bring himself to an oblivion that hadn’t felt so good in _years_.

He was too exhausted to have nightmares afterwards.

He thought maybe he now remembered what it felt like to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaff is heeeeere! And to cut short any possible debate, please remember the era, I _had_ to tackle the racial issues. 
> 
> Aside for that, what did you think? They had their first show! And is it me or is it really hot with hayffie? Let me know your thoughts!


	5. Escapism

Two weeks later Haymitch had proved his point that a circus ran far more easily when there was a foreman and a crew to handle the manual labor, but it still hadn’t been enough to win the troupe to his side. The show was slowly getting better but the others were changing things at a snail pace. The only one truly willing was Trinket – in the spirit of encouraging the others to do the same, he figured – but aside for insisting she used a safety net until Chaff had had an opportunity to replace the busted ropes, there wasn’t a lot he could say about her and Finnick’s act. It was good, it didn’t need changing.

He was starting to settle in though and the others were starting to include him, which was good.

Now if only the weather would cooperate… It wasn’t _that_ fun living on the road when winter was this harsh.

The knocking on his door distracted him from those considerations and he stopped glaring at the portable heater in the corner of the trailer to call out for his visitor to come in.

Trinket stepped inside with obvious relief, shivering despite the fur coat that she shed almost as soon as she had closed the door behind her. She was wearing a blue dress that day with a matching scarf holding her puffy curls away from her face. She always looked classy even when it wasn’t show time, no matter that the rest of them preferred to run around in comfortable clothes.

“Rue said you needed me?” she asked.

Her eyes roamed around by reflex even though she had been in his trailer once or twice by that point so she knew what she would find: a mess that had her wrinkling her nose in distaste. Clothes were tossed around, the props that hadn’t been crammed in one of the storage trucks were stuck in a pile and the bed was unmade. Her gaze lingered on the couple of liquor bottles but she didn’t comment. It was for the best because… He _had_ been trying to ease off the stuff a little and he was grumpy about it.

“Yeah.” he confirmed, glad that the kid was fast at running errands. He was still contemplating the assortment of chains and handcuffs spread on the bed. “I need you to tie me up.”

He couldn’t keep on pulling rabbits out of his hat. He needed to go back to daring acts or he would get bored before long and being bored meant more drinking. He had always been good at escapology and had the vague idea of making a whole spectacular act out of it. Assuming he could convince Trinket to spare the money for a human sized fish tank and that she would be willing to trap him into one…

“Do I get to gag you too?” she joked, getting to work without protest.

He was so shocked by that comment that he barely realized she had put the handcuffs on before his arms were secured at the small of his back.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected the flirting. Flirting was all they were doing when they weren’t fighting – and sometimes even the arguments themselves felt like an odd sort of seduction act. But that was taking it a little further than simply commenting on the shape of each other’s body or hinting at stuff… This was… _Really_ _not_ what he had thought she would say.

A girl like her… A girl who came from where he suspected she came from – _money, privilege_ – you didn’t expect that girl to know about _that_ kind of things. You barely expected her to know about sex at all because it wasn’t proper and _shit_. Sex, to people from her background, was still something linked with marriage and…

Maybe she hadn’t said it like that. Maybe it was his mind, a little too feverish when she was concerned, that was taking leaps. Still…

He let out a low whistle. “And there I thought you were a _proper lady_ …”

He was careful to sound teasing, a little vague just in case she really didn’t know what she was implying. She still might have taken it as an insult but she laughed it off instead.

“Your mistake, then.” she hummed, wrapping the chain around him without much efficiency. She secured the padlock and considered her work with amusement. “I find tied up men are much more likely to comply with my demands.”

He turned around to face her with lifted eyebrows. “Don’t need to tie _me_ up, sweetheart… I’d be more than happy to let you play around…”

Her lips twitched. Her blue eyes were sparkling with amusement but watching him carefully, _considering_ maybe.

“Somehow, I have the feeling you are more fond of giving orders rather than taking them.” she replied.

He took a few steps toward her, backing her against the wall of the trailer. She went willingly enough though. She was still looking amused when he pinned her between him and the hard surface.

“Is that a bad thing?” he challenged.

“Not necessarily.” she replied in the same tone. “Although you are the one currently tied up so…”

“Am I?” he smirked.

Did she see it coming? A flick of his elbow was all it took for the chains to fall. He didn’t give her time to react. He had the handcuffs around her wrists in a flash and her arms stretched over her head in shorter time than that. She gasped in surprise but not in fear and he leaned a little closer, his smirk deepening when he felt her heart racing up against his chest. He placed his free hand on her waist, running his thumb up and down the thick fabric of her dress… Could she feel it? He wasn’t sure.

“You play with fire, you’re gonna get burned, Princess.” he said. 

“Is that so?” she hummed, arching her back a little, pushing her breasts toward him. His fingers were clenching around the chain holding her wrists together.

“Don’t be reckless…” he warned because somehow… It wasn’t how he had expected this to happen. He wanted it. There was no doubt. And she wanted it too, that too he knew for certain. There were signs and the tension between them for the last two weeks had been thick enough to slice with a knife. But she was…

_Classy_.

And her propositioning him in his trailer wasn’t how he had seen that going. He had thought she would make him work for it, make him chase her a little longer before surrendering… He hadn’t thought she was the kind of girl who gave in that easily. Not that he wasn’t happy for it or that he judged her but… He hadn’t expected _that_.

She kept on surprising him, that girl.

“I dance on a tightrope for a living.” she reminded him. “Don’t you think I _am_ a little reckless?”

“Point taken.” he snorted, letting his hand wander up her waist to her breast, hesitantly stroking the swell of it over her dress. Her breath caught and she licked her lips. He pressed his hips hard against hers, leaving no room for doubt as to what he wanted. She pressed back.

He almost fell into her.

He brushed his mouth against hers, grasping her breast a little more firmly… It was on the small side but it fitted so well in his palm… She gasped again and he smirked because he could tell she would be vocal and… That turned him on.

“Guess we need to get it out of our system anyway, yeah?” he mumbled distractedly, searching her mouth.

She drew back a little. “Out of our system?”

“Once should do the trick…” he shrugged, dropping a kiss on her jaw. “Then maybe we’re gonna be able to talk without jumping at each other’s throat…”

“Once?” she repeated and her tone was icy enough that he frowned and stopped retracing the line of her jaw with his lips to look at her. She was frowning and that wasn’t good. “You do not want this… You do not want me…”

“Sweetheart, I _very much_ want you…” he scoffed, jutting his hips forward to prove his point.

She didn’t gasp or press back this time though and he took his hand off her breast to place it back on her waist, not really enjoying how unresponsive she had become.

“But only _once_.” she huffed.

“ _Ah_.” He winced, finally getting what the problem was. He stepped back, giving her back her space. “I ain’t interested in a relationship. Sex is… Sex is alright but…”

“ _Of course_ , sex is alright.” she deadpanned with enough sarcasm to chill the whole room, letting her bound hands fall in front of her. “My apologies, I clearly misread the situation and _you_ clearly mistook me for what I am _not_.”

“Hey, you’re the one who waltzed in all knowledgeable about gagging and _shit_ …” he retorted and then winced again. “Look, I’m sorry… For what it’s worth, I never thought you were…”

“A slut?” she finished when he let his sentence trail off. “No, you simply thought I was the kind of woman who slept around for fun apparently. And why? Because I am an unmarried woman running a circus by myself? I thought you were different.” She pursed her lips. “I think it is far better for the good of the troupe if we forget this even happened. Let’s remain friends.”

Haymitch had a bad taste in his mouth. He felt guilty and for no good reason of his own. He hadn’t promised her anything. He hadn’t _courted_ her or some _shit_ … He hadn’t even really initiated _this_. She…

“Let me get those off you…” he awkwardly mumbled, nodding to the handcuffs still encircling her wrists.

“No need.” she snapped and, in clicking sounds that seemed almost deafening, the handcuffs slipped off her wrists and onto the floor. He must have gaped a little because when he looked back up at her, she looked both smug and irritated all at once. “You are not the only one who is gifted at escaping, Haymitch.” The fact that she could have gotten out of the shackles at any moment somehow made him feel even worse. “I trust you not to blab about this around the others.”

“Course not.” he scowled. “Ain’t _that_ kind of asshole…”

She snatched her coat and slipped it on with jerky angry moves. He watched her toss her hair over the collar with an impatient flick of her arm. He tried to catch her eyes but she wouldn’t look at him. He thought they were shiny and, more than anything, that made him want to reach out, to salvage this.

He didn’t dare try to touch her again.

“Effie…” he whispered and she froze for a second. It was the first time he had used her name, he realized.

“Let’s stay friends.” she insisted. And then she was gone. 

The door swung shut quietly behind her and he would have preferred for her to have slammed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic drumrolls* Was Haymitch a jerk or what? Effie clearly wanted more... Can they really be friends? Will that tension raise its head again? (no pun intended I SEE YOU) Let me know your thoughts!


	6. Being Friends

Some days Haymitch wondered if they simply didn’t have the same definition of _friends_.

On others, he bitterly thought they had never been friends in the first place anyway.

_Friends_ was the easy camaraderie with Chaff. _Friends_ was refusing to accept Mason’s _bullshit_ and giving back as good as he got when she was in a mood. _Friends_ was slowly convincing Katniss that she could learn a couple of things from him. _Friends_ was helping Finnick put ropes away and attempting to learn the complicated knots the young man always used. _Friends_ was nodding and pretending to be interested when Annie shyly talked at length about her animals. _Friends_ was play sword-fighting with Glimmer and Marvel at the end of a rehearsal. _Friends_ was helping Rue climb on Thresh’s back while the boy was laughing so hard tears came to his eyes. _Friends_ was listening to Prim tell him in a clipped voice about the mother she and Katniss had left behind and sometimes sent money to. _Friends_ was placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder when Gale confided about his own mother and his siblings that he had been forced to abandon and to whom he sent all his wages to. _Friends_ was tossing flour at Peeta’s head when the kid stated he was helpless in a kitchen.

_Friends_ in short had never been the particular flavor of teasing, fighting and stealing looks that had existed between him and Trinket from the start.

She was polite now but never _familiar_.

He hadn’t realized how tactile she had been until she stopped brushing her hand against his arm every time they crossed path…

More than anything, he missed her easy laughter. Oh, she was still cheerful, particularly around the others, but it was forced and she never seemed to burst out laughing like when Haymitch had first joined in and had cracked poor dry jokes mostly to establish he was just a bitter old man. She had _never_ let him _be_ a bitter old man, she had always tried to coax him out of his shell and…

When he joined a group of conversation she was in, she waited a few minutes, just enough not to be too obvious, and then she left to check on something or other.

She welcomed his input about the circus but it seemed it was all they talked about nowadays. Hiring more men, finding a few musicians, how much profit they had made the previous night…

He often spotted the red glow of her cigarette on the steps of her trailer at night and he had walked that direction during his strolls a few times but every time she saw him, she nodded, wished him a good night and disappeared inside before he could say anything of real importance.

He wasn’t sure what he would have said given the chance.

The shift in their behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed either. All the kids had become strangely defensive around him, as if unsure they were still allowed to befriend him if Trinket was reluctant to do so…

“What the _hell_ did you do?” Chaff asked one night, after a show in which Trinket had torn her hand out of his as soon as she had taken her bow after his act. An act that could have been far much better now that he knew she could slip out of handcuffs by herself but given that she fled him like the plague there was no rehearsing or putting a plan together.

“Why is everyone assuming it’s even _my_ fault?” he grumbled back. His best friend gave him _a look_ and he rolled his eyes. “ _Fuck_ off.”

“You get she’s our boss, yeah?” Chaff retorted. “Don’t make the boss look sad, Haymitch. It’s bad for business.”

And now that he had heard it, he couldn’t unhear it.

She _did_ look sad.

Not pissed off or vexed or offended but _sad_.

He found himself watching her even more now and he knew she had noticed but he couldn’t really bring himself to care because she _did_ look sad and, for the first time in forever, he was more worried about someone else’s feelings than his own. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself when her cheerful happy mask fell every time she turned away from the group.

He found himself trying to cheer her up. He cracked more jokes, he made sure Peeta always saved her a piece of pie on the rare days they could afford some pastries – because the boy was in charge of cooking – and he always told her she had done a nice job after a show. She didn’t need the pat on the back and he thought it irritated her more than it comforted her. She perceived it to be condescending and he wasn’t quite sure how to tell her he was genuine.

He loved watching her fly up there. She was graceful and beautiful and…

He still wished she would keep the safety net in place. Chaff was complaining about the ropes too, he knew, but there was no money to spare at the moment.

Men started showing up at random points on their travels. Some Haymitch knew personally from the _Quell Circus_ and he welcomed them back with a surprising amount of happiness. Others were friends of Chaff, former soldiers recently shipped back home, people who had been deemed too damaged to be sent back to Vietnam, and while his best friend vouched for all of them personally, Haymitch knew some of them made Trinket and the other girls nervous.

It wasn’t that they were inappropriate but a soldier’s life made you forget how to behave properly for a while and the few of them who weren’t blankly staring into nothingness always had more or less suitable easy jokes about pretty women readily on the lips. Trinket parried those with a clever retort that usually was stern enough to remind them who was in charge, Katniss once threatened one to shoot an arrow down a narrow passageway if they ever talked to her or anyone else that way again. The girls could take care of themselves.

Still, both Haymitch and Chaff sat each of the men down and made it _very_ clear the first _hint_ of improper behavior would be severely punished. Trinket was aware and he suspected she resented the macho approach, the not quite _claim_ put over the female artists of the group. If that allowed them to stay safe though, Haymitch didn’t mind her quiet simmering anger. They were good men or Chaff wouldn’t have hired them but he had been around long enough to know sometimes it was better safe than sorry.

The person he really was glad to see turn up was Greasy Sae though. She showed up one morning at their camp near the Nebraska's border with her old trailer – an old school trailer pulled by _horses_ like most had still been in his childhood – her granddaughter and enough pots and spoons to feed a regiment.

He was hugging the old woman before she had even properly stepped down, eyes closed and breathing the familiar smell that was so similar to what his mother’s had been – horses, lemon soap and the faint hint of spices. She laughed and even her laughter was the same as it used to be.

“I heard on the grapevine Haymitch Abernathy was hiring…” she explained once he had put her back down. “Thought maybe you needed a cook, boy.”

“Sae!” Chaff exclaimed behind him and the old woman passed into his arms. Then the few men from the old crew gathered and there was more hugging…

The thing was, they _didn’t_ _need_ a cook. They had Peeta.

“Please, sweetheart, you won’t regret it.” he begged – downright _begged_ – Effie as soon as he had extricated himself from the circle of reuniting people and joined her where she was watching with the rest of the troupe.

She dragged him to the side, away from eavesdropping ears. “Haymitch…”

She looked regretful and he knew what she was going to say before she even uttered the words so he waved his hand in the air.

“Take it off my wages.” he suggested. “I don’t need the money. I’ve got the trailer and food. I’m fine until you make more benefits. _Hell_ , cut down the alcohol budget even…”

She studied him for a long _long_ time.

“You are aware one could say you are taking over my circus?” she asked casually.

“Just smoothing things out for you.” he denied.

And she couldn’t deny things _were_ running more smoothly now. She was good with the numbers, the advertising and the motivational speeches but a circus was a big machine and he had experience managing one. It had nothing to do with her being a woman, as she sometimes accused him in defensive and aggravated _hints,_ it had everything to do with the fact she couldn’t be much older than twenty-five and that it was her first tour on the roads – not that she had admitted that much, she was tight-lipped about her past but he had pieced it out together a little from what he had gathered from the others.

Her lips were pursed but she glanced at the laughing old woman still passing from arms to arms and she sighed. “What’s wrong with the girl?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised she had noticed. She had an eye for that sort of things. Sae’s granddaughter had grown up since the last time he had seen her but in body only.

“She’s not too right in the head.” he admitted. “She’s… a child up there, you know? But she’s a nice girl and she won’t cause problems. She helps around. She earns her keep.”

She sighed again and he knew he had her right there. She was unable to turn away anyone _different_ in need of help. She liked to put on airs but she was too kind and too generous.

“Fine.” she gave in. “On trial.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He was too happy to resist the urge of planting a kiss on her cheek.

It landed a little too close to her mouth and they both froze, looking at each other with far too few distance between them. She cleared her throat and averted her eyes. “You should go tell your friend.”

She looked sad again.

He brushed his fingers against her hand, a little hesitant. “Effie…”

“Do not play games.” she snapped, snatching her hand away. “ _Please_.”

He watched her walk back to the others, noticed the calculating look Finnick was giving him, and he went back to Sae with a smile on his face. “Boss says you can stay.”

“Who’s that _boss_?” the old woman asked, glancing behind him at the slowly scattering troupe with curiosity. Chaff helpfully pointed Effie out, which prompted Haymitch to search for her in the crowd… Their eyes met and, again, she turned away first. Sae laughed, catching Haymitch’s attention. She patted his chest good-naturally. “What did you get yourself into now, boy?”

If only he knew…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch is in trouuuubles... Is he starting to realize maybe he likes her a little more than he thought? Now how is he going to fix this? Let me know your thoughts!


	7. An Understanding

The thing was… You couldn’t _not_ like Greasy Sae.

It barely took two days for Sae to win Trinket over. He got up one morning, wandered to the kitchen trailer for his morning dose of coffee and found the two of them laughing together.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, half-expecting Trinket to run away like she had more or less being doing for days – _weeks_ , really.

“You trying to climb on an elephant and landing in its droppings.” Effie deadpanned.

He choked on his cup of coffee and glared at Sae. “The _fuck_ you’ve been telling her?”

“Relax, Haymitch…” Trinket grinned. “I find those childhood stories… _endearing_.”

That was the problem with someone who had known your mother before you were even born… They were never short of embarrassing stories and most of his new friends seemed _eager_ to hear them.

Katniss, unexpectedly, took to the cook like a fish to water, her wariness around strangers apparently not applying to this particular case. Prim and Rue, on their ends, made sure Dorit, Sae’s granddaughter, felt welcome and soon had her helping out with the goats and the other animals. It didn’t take them long at all to find their place in the group.

Sae, of course, immediately adopted the crowd of kids in a blink and the old woman was soon a favorite, pampered and fussed upon by each of them. Even the workmen loved her and she kept them all in line, old crew and vets alike, with a firm hand and a scowl when necessary. It made Chaff’s work that much easier and Haymitch often teased him _she_ should have been the foreman. 

Those days, Haymitch often mused as he watched the settling or the dismantling process, they were looking more like a real circus and less like ten people struggling to put a tent up.

It would have been great if the troupe cohesion had been there too but he forced himself to be patient about that and not so resentful that some of them had still not completely accepted him when they were so ready to welcome Sae or even Chaff.

Katniss, at least, had finally consented to let him teach her a few tricks.

That was what his mind was on that afternoon under the Big Top, as a few of them had claimed the space in the ring to rehearse. And, granted, since he was already waist deep in water, trapped in a huge fish tank that he had found in the odds and ends of a storage truck, he should maybe have been a little more focused on himself.

The water was cold and the chains were slippery. Later on, he would have weights on his feet that would make him sink and keep him at the bottom but for now he needed to build up his endurance because he wasn’t confident at all he could hold his breath long enough to get out of those chains. In the past, he might have, now…

“Add more water.” he ordered the kid who was standing on the ladder next to the tank. On the ground, Rue dutifully handed Prim the last bucket and, soon, he had water up to his neck. “Okay, you’re ready?”

His eyes swept around the ring one last time, aware that Marvel and Glimmer who were working a few feet away were watching him. So were Peeta and Gale, and Finnick was somewhere up there, playing with his trapezes and probably keeping an eye on him too. The safety net, at least, had been pulled out for training today. 

“Ready!” Rue called out, his old timer in her hand.

“Here goes nothing.” he muttered. “ _Go_.”

And he dived underwater, reminding himself not to panic, to focus, and not to lose air with ridiculous unhelpful movements.

Those were the three rules to that sort of act: never panic, focus on your objective, don’t waste oxygen.

There were three locks to open. He was in the middle of taking care of the second one when Effie Trinket sauntered inside with an easy smile and a global greeting he couldn’t hear, shed her coat and stood there in nothing else than a neon-pink leotard.

Even through the grainy glass of the tank and the blurry water he could tell that the leotard might as well be a second skin. Then she sat down on the hay and spread her legs on either side of her body as if it was completely natural to break out into a split wearing only a leotard without warning innocent bystanders.

He might have gasped a little.

Which wasn’t a good thing when your head was underwater.

He immediately kicked his bound feet when the water went down the wrong pipe and his head shot out. His hands were already free so he grabbed the edge of the tank and pulled himself up, coughing and spitting out cold water, ignoring Rue’s and Prim’s anxious questions about his health.

Everyone under the Top was staring at him with concern but it was Effie’s gaze he sought. Had she done _that_ on purpose? Walking around wearing next to nothing and taking _poses_ just to…

_To what?_ , a little voice at the back of his mind mocked, _Make you drown? Get over yourself, man._

Effie, as it turned out, looked just as worried as everyone else but relaxed when he stopped coughing.

“Easy, there, Haymitch.” she called out. “We would not want to lose our ringleader.”

“Maybe warn a guy next time you wanna walk into a room half naked…” he shot back before thinking twice about it.

Her eyebrows shot up and she glanced around, too aware perhaps that they had an audience.

“And there I thought you were enjoying the view.” she deadpanned anyway, clearly unwilling to let him have the last word.

“A bit too much.” he snorted, not quite joking.

The way she flattened her body on the ground next when her legs were still spread on either side of her was simply _provocative,_ he decided. It was lucky the water was so cold because his mind was very much fixated on how flexible she was.

“Behave.” she warned from her new position.

He bristled at the off-handed rebuke but with so many people watching, he couldn’t really reply to that like he wanted to. After all, _he_ hadn’t started it.

The odd tension was broken by the creaking of the safety net when Finnick dropped on top of it from the tent’s heights. He didn’t look entirely happy and he hopped off to strut to Effie – he strutted everywhere, that boy was a peacock – and engaged her in conversation while she stretched. They were clearly discussing possible new figures so Haymitch grumpily went back to his own training.

He tried to focus on the locks and not on the various stretching positions Effie submitted her body to.

Once he was satisfied he could hold his breath long enough to get rid of three locks, he disappeared behind the bleachers to change into a dry shirt and pants and came back to help the girls put his material away.

Someone had turned on a radio by that point and cheerful upbeat music was filling the Big Top. A few of the others had drifted in and he wasn’t really sure who started it. He thought it might have been Prim dragging Katniss for a laugh but soon the girls were twisting and shaking, Thresh grabbed Rue and they were dancing too, then it was Marvel and Glimmer… When the first notes of something even upper-beat followed, Finnick jumped off his trapeze to bounce off the safety net and take hold of Annie who had been shyly clapping next to Johanna… Jo tugged Gale on without leaving him much choice in the matter…

When Haymitch felt a hand close around his, Peeta had cut in and stolen Katniss away from Prim and the girl had turned to Rue and Thresh.

He hadn’t seen Effie get down her perch up there but he shook his head even as she took hold of his other hand and started twisting and trying to force him to do the same.

“I don’t dance.” he told her.

For a second, she looked like she had been slapped and she tried to snatch her hands away but he found himself entwining their fingers to keep her there. It was the first time she had willingly approached him – _friendly_ approached him – since what had – _not_ – happened between them in his trailer and he was loathed to lose the contact.

“Never been good at it.” he clarified before she could misinterpret that by him not wanting to dance with her.

“Patently untrue.” she huffed, giving up on trying to get free. “I saw you lead the whole troupe in musical numbers.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s different.”

“It really is not.” she dismissed with a cheerful laugh. “Follow my lead.”

“Don’t I always?” he mocked but let himself be convinced to emulate her movements.

The success of the endeavor was mitigated. He looked like a constipated chicken and she laughed so hard tears pooled in her eyes. He might have been vexed if she hadn’t been such a pretty sight, her cheeks flushed from the dancing, her eyes bright from the laughter and her body clad in that pink monstrosity of a leotard.

Naturally, because Haymitch’s luck was either fantastic or terrible depending on one’s perspective, the radio then sprouted out a slow dance. The girls, Tresh, Gale and Jo all opted to sit that one out but Peeta and Katniss and Annie and Finnick all gave it a go. Haymitch didn’t miss the jealous glance Gale gave the teenagers before storming out of the Big Top. He might have followed and tried to smooth ruffled feathers – maybe offer the boy a drink – if Effie’s arms hadn’t tentatively locked around his neck.

He placed his at the small of her back. The fabric seemed thin under his palms and she must have been _freezing._ It was with that thought in mind that he tugged her closer, so he could warm her up… At least that was what he told himself.

He pressed his cheek against the side of her head. Her blond curls were held back with a scarf again and his stubble caught a little on the silky fabric… He closed his eyes, let himself enjoy the moment… She tightened her hold a little, let out a soft sigh…

“We’re done fighting, sweetheart?” he whispered, low enough that the music would cover it and none of the kids would hear.

“Were we fighting?” she replied, a touch too detached to be genuine.

His hand ran up and down the bumpy line of her spine once but he didn’t go past the small of her back, mindful of the various kids sitting around, probably watching them. He might have otherwise.

“I’ve been an _ass_ and you’ve been a _bitch_.” he shrugged.

“Language.” she chided automatically but her voice was hesitant. “Your behavior is… One moment you look at me like you are interested and the next…”

“I’m interested.” he sighed. “I’m _very much_ interested. Thing is I’m not… I’ve been in that place before. Running a circus, living with my girl… Didn’t end well.”

“A bad break-up…” she started arguing, drawing back a little.

“She died.” he cut her off, maybe too harshly.

He saw the understanding dawning on her face. “The fire… Oh, Haymitch…”

“My family too. You probably know the story.” He scowled because he didn’t want her pity. “I ain’t… I don’t wanna get attached, Princess. Haven’t gotten attached to anyone in years and that works out for me. Sex is sex, I can deal with that. But _feelings_ …” He spat the word out and then shook his head. “Ain’t _you_. ‘Cause _you_ …” He licked his lips and averted his eyes, staring at Peeta and Katniss. The boy was blushing and Katniss was either oblivious or very gifted at playing coy – the first one, he would have bet. Young love. He remembered that. He remembered it _so_ _well_. Love was dangerous though. Love crept up on you when you weren’t looking. Love knocked on your door wearing a red dress and if you weren’t careful it would swallow you whole. “Relationships ain’t my thing anymore. So, yeah… I like you and I’m… You’re _fucking_ attractive and you know that… But…”

“But you do not wish to pursue anything serious.” she finished for him. She rested her head on his shoulder after a second. “I do not… I need to set an example for the girls. I cannot enter any promiscuous arrangement just because… And it would not be like me anyway. I… I had intimate relationships before but never any that weren’t… meaningful.”

“Got that.” he murmured. “That’s okay. We can… We can be friends, yeah? For real this time.”

“Friends who really want to sleep with each other?” she mocked but it was a little bitter.

“Friends who won’t break each other’s hearts ‘cause one of them is an old drunk who’s too broken to love you back like you deserve.” he countered carefully. “Wouldn’t even know how to anymore.”

The last part was, maybe, a little wistful.

“You are _not_ old. You cannot be more than thirty.” she argued as if it was the most important thing there. 

He didn’t answer and they kept on swaying. If she noticed he tightened his embrace, she didn’t let on but, then again, she was pressing closer herself.

“Hey! You’re gonna stay like this all day or you’re coming to dinner?” Jo called out and Haymitch realized belatedly that the music had stopped and most of the kids had left the tent. 

They immediately let go of each other. Effie was a bit red in the face and she cleared her throat, muttering something about getting changed into something warmer before fleeing the tent. Haymitch, after a moment, grabbed the leather jacket he had abandoned on the bleachers and followed Jo out, ignoring the suspicious glances the kid was giving him.

He waited for the young woman to corner him all evening which was why he was so taken off-guard when, at the end of the show, when they were putting everything away, it was Finnick who stopped right in front of him with a serious expression on his face.

“Don’t toy with her.” the young man warned him. “I like you but she’s the closest I’ve ever got to a mother and _I swear_ if you hurt her I will smash your face.”

His eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched despite himself. “You think you can take me in a fight, boy?”

Maybe he could. The kid was younger. But Haymitch had gained back the muscles he had lost drinking since he had come back to circus life and he had always been strong in a brawl.

“I won’t be alone.” Finnick shrugged and then walked away to where Jo was leaning against a pillar.

Duty accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress was made... Wasn't it? What will happen next? Will Effie convince him he should try loving again? Will she give in to him? Will Haymitch get punched before the fic is through? Let me know your thoughts!


	8. Not Friends

Life was far easier now that Haymitch and Effie had buried the hatchet but he was quickly coming to the conclusion that they _did not,_ in fact, know how to actually _be friends._

They flirted. They bickered and bantered and always found excuses to bother each other like kids with a crush who didn’t know how to express things properly. They also kept on fighting regularly, his temper set off by her stubbornness and her susceptibilities triggered by his rough manners.  But all of that really amounted to one thing: _flirting._

Chaff shook his head at him on a daily basis.

“Get over yourself and ask her out.” his best friend advised on more than one occasion.

Haymitch elected to ignore him.

One of the things about this newfound truce he loved so much was the time before bed he had, before that, spent wandering between trailers in hope sleep would come. He sat with her in front of her trailer while she smoked her cigarette now. Sometimes he brought his flask, sometimes he just sat there with her.

It was quiet and peaceful and that time was theirs alone. The whole circus was usually already asleep.

They talked. _Of course,_ they talked because she could never shut up. They talked in soft voices that didn't carry much further than them. Most nights they just went over the show and whose act needed to be perfected, sometimes he told her a story from the _Quell_ ’s time. He didn’t think he would ever stop hurting when talking about his former circus, about the dead, but the more he talked about it, the less difficult it seemed.

He never talked about Vietnam or about the night of the fire.

She didn’t talk about anything that predated the birth of _Capitol Circus._

Still, it was easier than when she had been avoiding him like the plague. He was aware, though, that the kids - most of them anyway - had started watching them.

When she brought her horse to a stop next to where he and Chaff were sitting and drinking some coffee, that morning, he was ridiculously aware, for instance, that at least four of them were staring from various spots around the camp.

“Annie, Finnick and I are going riding.” she declared. “I was hoping you would come with us so I do not have to be the third wheel.”

He blinked up at her, as much because the sun was in his eyes as because the thought was a weird one.

She loved her horses, he knew. Not as much as Annie - but then again it would have been hard for anyone to love animals as much as Annie did - but she never wasted an opportunity to ride. When they were on small country roads, she often deserted the trucks to get on one of the horses.

“You want me to get on a horse…” he clarified, slowly.

Chaff let out an amused noise and Effie turned to him, looking contrite. “You are welcome too, Chaff, of course.”

“Thanks, boss, but I’ve got work to do.” Chaff refused with a shake of the head.

She nodded her understanding and looked back at Haymitch, expectant.

“Ain’t gonna happen.” he scoffed.

That only made her frown. “Do not tell me you are afraid of horses.”

“Ain’t _afraid,_ I just like them better from down here.” he grumbled. She tossed him _a look_ he had learned to be wary of and he scowled harder. “Mark my word, it _ain’t_ happening.”

So, of course, ten minutes later he was on top of one of Annie’s gentlest mares, a sulk on his face.

Truth be told, there were worse things than riding and he wasn’t sure why he had never given it a try before - he _had,_ as she unhelpfully pointed out, spent his whole life or most of it anyway in close proximity of them. The best part of the outing was easily her fussing over him while he muttered that he wasn’t _entirely_ inept. Annie and Finnick soon got bored of the lesson and rode ahead, leaving them to stroll through the countryside at a more leisurely pace.

“Ain’t something I ever thought I'd see.” Chaff mocked when they came back to the circus. “You’re so whipped.”

Once again, he elected to ignore his best friend even if Effie’s giggles tended to prove she had heard him.

She giggled a lot around him lately and he liked that a lot more than the sad face she had previously tried to hide from the kids. Which was why he wasn't particularly happy to see that expression make a reappearance when they rode into a town only to be greeted by protesters.

“They’ve been at it since this morning.” Chaff informed them when they reached the camp the crew had already set. They were in the difficult process of erecting the Big Top. “They’re harmless though. Moms and such.”

The protesters were apparently against loose morals and a sexual promiscuity the circus only encouraged and were led by an angry group of women.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen something like that.” Haymitch snorted. “Didn't know that still existed anymore.”

“Oh, they _do_ still exist. Trust me on that.” Effie muttered with a dark look for the protesters.

Haymitch and the rest of the troupe found the whole thing funny but Effie remained somber all day. He had rarely seen her so moody since he had joined and he didn't really understand where it was coming from. He tried to cheer her up all day but the smiles she sent his way were fleeting at best.

“She’s in an Elindra mood.” Finnick told him at dinner time, when he passed by him with a plate full of food. “It’s better to leave her alone.”

Haymitch, who had been eating his own plate standing up and leaning against the wall of the trailer to better watch her brood a few feet away while she poked at her stew, studied the boy with a frown. “What's an _Elindra_?”

“Her mother.” the young man answered with an uncharacteristic sneer.

He left to sit with Annie, Jo and Katniss before Haymitch could ask him to elaborate.

The show, that night, went extremely well. Spurred by the controversy and a timeless need to annoy one’s parents, teens filled the bleachers to the point Haymitch was sure they had made a nice profit.

Privately he thought they must have been disappointed by the lack of _promiscuity_ though the boys probably enjoyed the girl’s short costumes.

Effie’s mood hadn’t improved by the end of the show. She usually truly enjoyed performing but he could tell her heart wasn’t really in it that night despite the bright smiles. She slipped away quickly afterwards instead of adding to the chaos of a post show.

It was a while before Haymitch could escape himself and he took the time to change out of his ringleader costume and put on more casual clothes before going to look for her. It was dark and late already and he went straight to her trailer, a little relieved to find her sitting on the metallic step as usual, a cigarette that clearly wasn’t her first in her hand.

She moved to leave him room so he took it as a sign she didn’t mind the company.

She snatched the flask from his hand as soon as he had slipped it out of his pocket so he stole her cigarette. If she was going to sample his poison, he might as well get a taste of hers.

It had been so long since his last cigarette and yet the sensations were the same, the soft burn at the back of his throat when he held the smoke in too long... Effie coughed after her first mouthful and winced at her second.

He watched her, suddenly realizing it was the first time he saw her drink anything that wasn't water, tea or coffee.

“I never told you how I ended up here, did I?” she hummed after a minute.

He snorted and blew out the smoke. “I’d say you kept the mystery on purpose, Princess.”

Her lips stretched in a genuine smile that didn’t last very long. Her hands were wrapped around the silver of his flask, she propped it on her knees, watching it as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She was still in her costume, he belatedly noticed. She was wearing her fur coat but it wasn’t hiding her sequin dress and he had grown too used to the pink wig to actually notice its presence.

“My grandfather was a clown.” she whispered.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up. “What’s his name?”

“You wouldn’t have known him. He was not famous.” she dismissed. “It did not matter to him. As long as he could make people laugh, he was happy.”

“Sounds like a good man.” He smiled and handed the cigarette back, hoping she would exchange it for his flask but she refused it with a shake of her head and kept a deadly grip on the silver container.

“He was. I did not know him as well as I would have liked. I do not have enough memories.” she whispered wistfully. “I remember how happy I was when his circus came into town…” She sighed. “My mother was born in a circus but she married well. _Extremely_ well. My father is… He is very wealthy. His family did not approve the match, of course, but she was… _is_ a beautiful woman.”

“So that's where you got it from…” he smirked.

She didn’t smile or giggle like she usually did when he offered a less backhanded compliment.

“I am merely pretty. She is… She is _breathtaking_.” she argued as if he had just uttered the worst blasphemy.

“Wouldn’t say you're merely _anything.”_ he countered.

“If you knew her… There is no guessing she wasn’t born in a world of money.” Effie continued, apparently deciding to ignore his compliments. “She is in every bit a lady. And that is the life she wanted for me and my sister. But _I…”_ Her voice trailed off and he pressed his shoulder against hers. Not too much. Just enough that she knew he was there, a tangible presence against the memories that wanted to choke her. He was familiar with that kind of feeling. “You have _no idea_ how many times I begged my grandfather to take me with him. I wanted to see the world not… My mother forced me to go to ballet classes when all I wanted was to learn how to fly.” she whispered and then shook her head. “When word reached us that he had passed I was devastated. My mother almost slammed the door on the circus’ owner’s face though. Imagine the scandal if anyone had seen him on our doorstep…”

There was a bitterness in her voice he wasn’t quite sure how to soothe.

“I met Finnick in a club I wasn’t supposed to be at in the first place. Isn’t it odd how fate works sometimes?” she hummed. “We became fast friends and he introduced me to Mags who, as it turned out, grew up in the same circus as my grandfather… She taught me everything. It was a secret, of course, I told my parents I was taking art classes.”

“Sneaky.” he commented. “Didn’t know you could be that sneaky.”

“I can be a lot of things when I have my eyes set on something.” she retorted. And the way she looked at him…

_She had his eyes on him and she wouldn’t be denied_. She wouldn’t be happy until he had reconsidered, maybe, until he had caved and admitted he wanted more than just a tumble between her sheets and…

“So how did you end up with a circus?” he asked. He took a last drag of the cigarette and carefully crushed it on the hard ground. He made sure there was no glow left before looking at her again.

His flask had slipped down her legs and was now trapped between her thighs and her stomach, impossible to reach without touching places he had no business touching so he gave up on drinking for now.

“The war.” she answered. “Finnick had just turned eighteen and Mags was terrified he would be called to serve. The stories we heard at that time… Finnick didn’t want to go. I… Annie was working at my riding club, I took him there one time… It was love at first sight.”

“They’re cute.” he admitted and that word didn’t pass his lips easily.

“Yes.” She flashed him a proud smile, as if she was partly responsible for it. Maybe she was. “Anyway… It was all becoming… _difficult_ for Finnick. You know how peer pressure works. Most young men his age around him were gone… He was called names…”

“Yeah.” he shrugged.

“He’s not a soldier and Mags would have _died_ of worry.” she sighed, nervously rubbing the side of her neck as if remembering that time in vivid details. “Every day it was growing worse. And at that time… Well, at that time, I was supposed to get married in six months and I was _desperate_ to escape that too, I suppose, so… I had this _crazy_ idea.”

That was new information and he remained silent, trying to digest the _getting married_ thing.

“My parents would _never_ have approved so I did it all behind their backs. I had money of my own, quite a lot, from my grandparents on my father’s side. They left everything to my sister and me because they didn’t want my mother to touch a cent.” she explained.

“Bet she loved that.” he remarked.

Her laughter filled the air, laced with a touch of excitement as if she was truly reliving that part of her life. “Oh, you have _no_ idea… Anyway, I took care of everything with Mags’ help. The trucks, the animals… Annie agreed to come with us, of course. Then, we found Jo in… She does not have a pretty story.”

“I guessed.” he offered quietly because he could tell that, despite her weird urges to get naked just to provoke everyone, the girl had been hurt badly and in ways that made him want to strangle someone. He had seen it before. She was too angry and too protective of the others girls for it to be otherwise.

Effie nodded but didn’t add any more about it. “The others found us when we were already on the road but when we set off it was only Mags, Finnick, Annie, Johanna and me… It was a little scary but I couldn’t regret it. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to touch the stars. Does it sound stupid?”

The question was quick and a little too vulnerable.

He snorted. “Would be a real hypocrite to say _yeah_ , sweetheart. I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Yes…” she grinned, leaning harder against his side. “I suppose you are.”

They were sitting too close and the soft touch of sadness in her big blue eyes wasn’t helping him think properly. He wanted to kiss her. His lips were already tingling with the anticipation of it.

He took a deep breath and let it out, leaning back a little, propping himself on his right hand. He hadn’t planned on her shifting and ending up more or less tucked between his side and his arm. It wasn’t quite a hug but it was… It felt _intimate_.

“So… Your mother disowned you?” he joked.

“Probably. I would not know.” She fished a new cigarette and lit it easily, bringing it to her lips a few times before she continued. “I sneaked away in the dead of night and only left letters. I was a coward, you see. I think my fiancé suspected I was about to call the wedding off but… He probably did not imagine I was about to run away to a _circus_.”

He debated with himself for several long seconds but her body was warm against his side and…

“That fiancé… Is he one of the guys with who you had a…” He stopped and smirked despite the wisdom of even asking that at all. “How did you put it? _An intimate relationship?_ ”

She tilted her head back to blow out smoke, purposefully or not resting it on his shoulder. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Seneca was… Well, the match was arranged. He is the son of my father’s business partner. My parents pushed the relationship and they could have chosen worse so I went along with it. At least, he was just a little older than me and good company. It did not happen often though. I suspect he…” She cleared her throat and it was hard to tell in the dark but he thought she was blushing. “I suspect he wasn’t… Shall we say… _partial_ to _women_.”

His eyebrows shot up at the casual acceptance in her voice. It wasn’t that he really minded. Circus life made you a little more open on a lot of subjects. The circus always welcomed people no matter how different. But the fact that she would probably have married the guy knowing he would never be able to entirely love her…

“Was he your first?” he asked.

“You _are_ aware this conversation is _highly_ improper, I trust?” she retorted. “Am _I_ asking you how many women have been in your life?”

“Less than you’re thinking.” he shrugged. He regretted it when the small move dislodged her head and she stood a little straighter.

“And how many would _that_ be?” she insisted.

His left fingers drummed on his legs. He was hitching for a drink now. “There was Mabel…”

“Your girlfriend.” She let out a sad hum as if she was truly sharing his pain. Somehow he had expected her to be jealous.

“She wasn’t… We were married in all the ways that counted.” he corrected quietly. “Everyone thought of it that way.” That was circus life for you. You didn’t always need white dresses and vows. “She was my first. Then _after…_ A few women. None that mattered.”

“Oh…” she whispered.

“Told you it was less than you thought.” he mocked. “So… You?”

“Just another one.” she admitted after a long pause and a lot of drags of her cigarette. She was a little ill-at-ease, he could tell. “Stelan was my father’s odd-job man. Very _cliché_ , I know. I was madly in love with him, I thought… Well, I was young and stupid and he promised me he wanted to marry me. When they found out my parents were livid. They dismissed him, of course. Paid him off. Everything to avoid a scandal.”

He snorted and moved his arm just an inch, enough that it bumped into hers. It wasn’t exactly an invitation, more of a… _suggestion_ , but she leaned back against his side again. The wig smelt of hairspray and he wished she had taken it off because he liked the soft fruity smell of her shampoo.

“Which one liked to be tied-up?” he teased.

She laughed and her head rolled on his shoulder again.

He wasn’t sure why he wrapped his arm around her waist. He just… He wanted to keep her there, with him. He wanted…

She didn’t seem to mind the hand that was suddenly pressed against her stomach. He could have grabbed the flask if he had thought about it but he was too busy toying with the frayed fur of the polar bear coat.

“Stelan liked his games.” she answered with a faraway smile that prompted him to tighten his hold a little, to bring her back to the present because it was all well and good to laugh about past conquests but… “Like seducing the boss’ teenage daughter, I suppose.”

He frowned. “How old?”

“Seventeen.” She gave him a one shoulder shrug. “I was very willing, though, and I am afraid he debauched me _quite_ severely. The circus girl in me no doubt, as my mother would say.”

“Maybe circus folks are freer with that kind of things.” Haymitch admitted. “Doesn’t mean it’s _wrong_.”

“Isn’t it?” she chuckled. “I was raised a certain way, you know. I do enjoy… _Well_. But I draw the line at casual hook-ups. I do not want to prove my mother right.”

“Times are changing.” he commented. “Sex ain’t the taboo thing it was ten years ago.”

“Not fast enough and never for the likes of Elindra Trinket.” she sighed. “Perhaps it will be different for Prim’s and Rue’s generation. For mine I am afraid it is already too late.”

“But you’re only against doing it casually.” he countered. “If you found someone who wanted more…”

He was missing the point though and maybe on purpose. She had believed the first one when he had said he wanted to marry her and she had been engaged to the second one. In both cases… She had thought they would be the last ones.

“Are you changing your mind?” she asked with far too much hope.

The ‘ _sorry, sweetheart’_ took a long time to pass his lips and he was a little afraid she would bolt out of his arms and storm back to her trailer but she remained there. He was aware he was being contradictory but it had been _so long_ since he had felt the need to hold anyone, since anyone had let him hold them… He craved the human comfort. He craved… He was afraid he was craving _her_ a little.

He watched her smoke, he watched the cigarette grow smaller and smaller, certain that when she would crush it, it would mean the end of that moment.

“You ever got back in touch with your family?” he asked eventually.

“My sister is the only one who answers my letters.” she told him. “But she does not understand. She is married to a proper businessman and she has two children… Running away to the circus is just as inconceivable to her as it would be for me to simply go back home and settle down.” Her free hand fell on the leather sleeve of his jacket. He could barely feel the weight of her fingers, she didn’t squeeze his forearm. “I _do_ miss them all though. I keep inviting them to come and see our show when convenient but I do not think it will ever happen.”

“They wouldn’t try to grab you and force you back, right?” The thought was a worrying one.

“Would you miss me if they did?” she challenged, turning her head so her wig brushed against the side of his neck.

“Don’t play that game, Princess…” he begged.

“I am not the one playing games, Haymitch.” she retorted softly. “ _I_ am being very straightforward.”

She crushed the cigarette and turned into him in the same movement. Suddenly, it was her forehead against his neck, her legs were tucked between his thighs and his stomach and he wasn’t sure when he had tightened his embrace but both of his arms were around her. He was also pretty sure if they moved one inch to the right, they were going to fall flat on the ground because that step wasn’t that large.

“Effie…” he rebuked but it sounded raw and a little too desperate.

“You like me. You _want_ me. You are not planning on going anywhere in the near future.” she argued. “Would it be so hard for you to think about… We could build something _good_ together. I can _feel_ it. _Don’t you_?”

Oh, yeah, he could. And that was why it was so terrifying.

“I can’t.” he snapped. “You know I can’t.”

But he wasn’t letting her go even if he was getting angry. He didn’t want to think about those things. He wanted to enjoy spending time with her without…

“ _Why_?” she insisted.

“Because I can’t… I can’t…” he replied, unable to _word_ it.

He couldn’t _love_ properly anymore. Something had started to break in Vietnam and had completely shattered the night of the fire. He wasn’t _capable_ of handling love anymore. He didn’t trust himself. A part of him rejected the notion outright even. It was _too painful_.

If she had let him keep her at arm’s length… If she had let him take her body and her friendship and just… He could have handled that kind of relationship. But what she wanted? What she wanted – what she _deserved –_ he couldn’t…

All he could think about was Mabel’s last _‘Hurry up, Bitchy Mitchy’_ and the screams ringing in the night later on that might have been hers and might have not. He had never known. Not for sure.

And then there had been his mother’s trailer in flames. The heat of the blaze when he had tried to jump inside to reach his brother. The terrible moment when the boy’s calls for help had stopped. The hands that had held him back, his throat raw from the smoke and the screaming, Chaff’s arms around his waist because it would have been suicide and he had _known_ it at the time, but let him die in a blast of flames rather than stand there and _survive_ such horror _again_ …

“Alright. Alright…” she quickly said. “ _Shh_ … It is alright.”  He hadn’t realized how upset he had gotten until she ran her fingertips against the back of his hand to make him uncurl his fist. He was hunched over without remembering how that had happened. She was still tucked against him, still warm against his suddenly cold body… “Friends is good. We will be friends. I won’t ask again. _I promise_. It is alright…”

The nauseating ball of anger and despair clawing at his chest soon receded. She smoothed it out and she didn’t say anything when he reached for the flask and gulped half of it down.

They weren’t _friends_ though.

Friends didn’t whisper nonsense against your cheek because you were upset, their nose bumping against your cheekbone every two seconds. Friends didn’t reach out and run gentle fingers into tangled hair. Friends didn’t brush lips against your neck in something that wasn’t _quite_ a kiss. Friends might have let you cling to them but not to the point your breaths mingled and you couldn’t tell _why_ exactly it would have been a bad idea to seek oblivion in them.

They weren’t friends.

But he wasn’t sure what else they could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're really not good at being JUST friends ;) What will it take for Haymitch to realize (and accept) he wants more? Let me know your thoughts!


	9. Ropes & Strings

They went riding two to three times a week when possible. Sometimes with Finnick and Annie, sometimes by themselves. Haymitch longed for and dreaded the times when they were alone most of all.

When they were alone, they would dismount at some point under the excuse of taking a small break and admire the landscape. Winter was slowly dying and they were west enough that the weather was warmer, she didn’t always drag her polar bear coat around and the fabric of her lighter dresses clung to her legs. He watched her legs more often than he watched the landscape.

They always ended up hugging – he wasn't going to call it _cuddling_. Against the trunk of a tree. Sitting on top of a hill. On the bank of a small river.

Sometimes he worried about giving her false hopes but, to be fair, he wasn’t sure who was stringing who along. Her mouth brushed against his neck more and more often to the point it couldn’t be called accidental anymore.

She complained his beard was getting out of control and was too itchy, he grumbled and told her she was too fussy. Still, one evening he hung a mirror to a post outside his trailer and took advantage of the late sunlight to bring a blade to his throat.

“That girl has you jumping through more hoops than Buttercup.” Chaff mocked from his perch on the small wooden foldable table Haymitch often dragged in front of his trailer. It might not have been the smartest choice because he was pretty sure it wouldn't hold his friend’s weight much longer. Haymitch was holding his tongue though. Chaff was being annoying and would deserve a fall.

“Was starting to itch.” he lied, carefully swishing the razor along his jaw.

“Sure.” His best friend humored him. “So, just so we’re clear… Why are you playing so hard to get? Cause the way I see it… She’s young, she’s rich and she’s _fucking_ beautiful. Plus, she’s feisty and we both know you’ve got _a thing_ for that.”

“Ain’t like that.” he muttered.

“Please.” Chaff scoffed, his laughter soon following. “She’s thirsty for it and you badly need to get laid. What’s the holdup? I bet she’s wild. You…”

“You shut up _right now._ ” he spat, turning around with his razor pointed at his friend, more angry than he really knew what to do with. Anger was difficult to control. “All she did for you and you talk about her like _this?_ She deserves _better._ She _ain’t_ one of your _birds_ , Chaff. She's a classy girl, alright? Don’t _fucking_ speak about her like that or I _swear_ I’m gonna break your _fucking_ nose.”

“Alright. Alright.” Chaff said quickly, lifting both hand and stump in the air. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Haymitch glared at him. He had known Chaff and his numerous conquests all his life, he knew perfectly well what he had meant by it. Haymitch had always been more of a one girl at a time kind of guy.

“Fine.” he grumbled, going back to shaving.

There was a long moment of awkward silence. They didn't fight often.

“ _Shit,_ Haymitch, you’ve got it so bad for her why don’t you _do_ something about it?” Chaff insisted after a while, sounding sincerely puzzled.

“Ain’t like _that_.” he repeated firmly.

“You're sure?” his friend challenged. “Cause last time you threatened to punch me it was over…”

“Don’t say her name.” he warned.

Chaff frowned but Haymitch ignored him, dabbing at his face with a towel that wasn’t entirely clean. “You don't _still_ feel guilty, right? It _wasn’t_ your fault.”

The table gave in at that point and the raucous was enough to gather a few people around. Once it was clear Chaff wasn't terribly hurt, they all laughed and Chaff the loudest of them all.

Haymitch remained in an awful mood all night though. He didn’t wander to her trailer for a last drink-slash-cigarette. He sat at his hastily repaired table and nursed his flask between his hands. He wasn’t sure when he had stopped _needing_ the drinks. He still drank. Enough to keep the shakes at bay but he didn't crave it all that much.

He wasn’t entirely surprised when her figure detached from the darkness and she took the free chair without waiting for an invite. He hadn’t gone to her so it seemed logical she would come to him.

She was wearing a blue dress and her blond curls were up in a puffy hairdo, no coat or jacket. It wasn’t warm enough to sit around at night without one on yet. Wordlessly, he shed his leather jacket and handed it over. It looked better on her anyway.

“You shaved.” she hummed with a pleased smile.

“If I had gone to bed when she had asked, things would have been different.” he replied without exactly knowing why.

It was completely unrelated but it didn’t seem to throw her.

“Your wife.” she whispered. She never called her his girlfriend anymore and for that he was strangely glad. She respected it. What he had shared with Mabel. She respected it more than Chaff sometimes did by talking about their dead friends so casually. It might have been in Chaff’s past, it wasn’t yet in _his_. “You might have died too.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “Would have been best.”

“No.” she countered. There was no room for argument in it. When she reached out and covered his hand, he let go of the flask and turned his palm up. “Haymitch.” He dragged his eyes up from their entwined fingers to her. “ _No.”_

He didn’t say anything else but they stayed out there for a long time.

She watched him like a hawk for the next couple of days. The dark moods weren’t as difficult to deal with as they had been when he had been alone in his shack. What he wanted to do was lock himself in his trailer and binge drink until he didn't know his own name anymore. What he did was get up every morning, get his coffee from Sae, supervise the running of the circus with Effie and spend time with whichever kid needed him that day, rehearse and then get ready for the show.

One remarkable morning he wasted a good hour listening to Prim tell him why the new geese were a good acquisition – _eggs every morning, Haymitch!_ – and then he pitched a fit to Effie because instead of buying livestock she should have been replacing the _fucking_ damaged ropes they were still using.

She told him with certainty the ropes would hold until they reached the coast and their usual supplier.

He should have listened to his guts.

Although they weren’t _that_ far from the coast when it all went to hell.

“No safety net?” Haymitch asked Gale – _grumbled_ at Gale rather – after he had presented Effie and retreated to the ring’s shadows in a puff of smoke that gave the illusion he had just disappeared. He kept his eyes on her advances on the tightrope, knowing her act by heart now. Every night he asked the same question though.

“You know she doesn’t like it.” Gale answered with impatience.

Of course, he knew. She said it made for a better show this way and she wasn’t wrong – _and_ he wouldn't have kept harassing her and Finnick about it if the ropes hadn’t been frayed in places.

He watched her jump off the tightrope without any hope of ever catching herself if Finnick wasn’t on time… Which, _of course,_ he was.

Then the trapeze act started and Haymitch let himself relax a little because it was really the tightrope that was the worst off and the trapeze act, while impressive, was less risky.

Or, at least, that was what he told himself until Effie came off a jump to grab the wooden bar and screamed.

He registered the scream first because it was shrill and frightened and loud enough to pierce over the music.

He didn’t understand at once what was happening.

He watched one of the rope give, the wooden bar dangling from the only remaining one and Effie’s hand impossibly tightening her grip, the other one quickly losing her hold. The shock of it reverberated through her whole body, her legs batted the air, her fingers slid down the bar…

He didn’t understand.

She was right there, sliding off to her death, hanging on with the strength of merely five fingers, the whole thing swaying dangerously in every direction, and he didn’t compute.

He was vaguely aware that Peeta and Gale were rushing to put the safety net back in place, certain it would be too late.

The audience was on their feet, gasping, pointing….

Finnick swung by her a few times, trying to grab her… Her rope was swaying too much.

He saw Chaff dash past to access the complicated cogs and counterweight bags, probably hoping to lower her to the ground…

Her grip was slacking. She was seconds away from falling when Finnick did something stupid. He locked his legs around the bar and swung upside down, shouting at her to jump.

Haymitch wanted to look away because she was certainly going to crash but he couldn’t stop staring in morbid fascination, certain she was _going to crash_.

One second there and gone the next. Like everything else in his life.

He could barely believe it when Finnick managed to grab her. He kept waiting for her golden clad body to fall, for the dislocated woman to appear on the hay of the ring, for the blood to spread…

The applause was thunderous. Both Finnick and Effie actually _bowed_ up there.

Haymitch was stunned.

He should have said something. _Anything_.

He wasn’t sure who started the music of the closing number. He ran off to the back of the tent where he knew they would be, vaguely aware that Katniss was leading the song he usually had to threaten them all for them to sing along with him.

Effie was sitting on a storage box, trying to fend off Finnick’s probing hands. She looked mostly alright. Her pink wig was a little askew and whips of blond hair were curling around her ears and neck. She was visibly shaken and there were tears tracks on her cheeks that had been hastily wiped away. She looked…

_Alive._

She was _alive._

“I am _fine!”_ she exclaimed, pushing Finnick away with her left hand. Her right arm was folded against her chest. “I am telling you I am fine! My shoulder just took the blunt of the shock. Go back out there! The show must… Haymitch, do not _dare_ start too! I am...”

He dropped to his knees in front of her and feverishly reached out, only letting out the breath he had been holding when he felt the skin of her arms under his palms. Warm. Blissfully _fucking_ warm.

_Alive._

_Alive._

_Alive._

He was going to hug her. Cradle her close and probably never let go. In his head, that was what he was going to do. Which was why he was so surprised when his hand cupped her cheek almost of its own volition. He hadn’t planned it. He hadn’t…

Her lips were unresponsive only for the few seconds it took her to catch up with what was happening. Then she was kissing back and he knew he was a goner. Her mouth was warm and demanding and he pressed harder, his hand sliding from her cheek to the back of her neck… Her good hand was bundling his jacket in her fist, pulling him even closer… Her knees parted and he was in her space in a flash, chest to chest…

He was vaguely aware that Finnick was talking, saying sensible things about how Haymitch needed to close the show…

Finally, Effie drew back with a soft gasp, blinking hard as if she was a little stunned and her eyes darted from him to Finnick a few times…

“He is right…” she hesitated. “You should…”

He tossed his hat to the kid, took off his red jacket and threw it in his direction, not waiting to see if the young man had caught it to kiss her again. She melted against him and Finnick took a hint and left, putting on the jacket and the hat and clearly struggling to hide a mocking smile.

He could have stayed there on his knees and kiss her for the rest of his life.

He was out of breath when he finally got a grip on himself. His heart was still racing inside his chest. His hands were still shaking. He couldn’t let go of her. Taking his hands off her would really have been too much. He could still see it in his mind: her broken body on the ring. For a second, he had been so _sure_ …

“You need a ride to the hospital…” he mumbled, forcing himself to be sensible.

“No, I am fine. _Really_.” she insisted. “I just need to put something warm on my shoulder… It will be alright then.”

He licked his lips and brushed his hand up her bad arm, gently probed at her injured shoulder, satisfied when she didn’t cry out in pain. She winced though but wincing meant the pain wasn’t that bad.

“You’re lucky you didn’t pull it out of its socket.” he commented, his voice sounding relatively steady to his own ears. It was in total contrast with the panic he was feeling inside. “Come on… Let’s take care of it. Can you walk?”

“I am _fine_.” she insisted.

He wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to convince this time around. Her legs weren’t that steady and he wrapped an arm around her waist before they were even out of the tent. She leaned against his side, burrowing against him to fight the chill of the night, letting him support her to her trailer.

They were silent the whole time.

They didn’t talk either when they reached her trailer. She sat crossed-legged on her bed and gave a half-hearted attempt at taking out the pins keeping her wig in place with her good hand. He prepared a hot-water bottle with fingers that dropped everything because they were still shaking too much and he cursed the fact there was never any liquor to be found in her trailer.

Eventually, he wrapped the hot-water bottle in a towel so it wouldn’t be too hard on her skin and sat behind her, one leg outstretched on the bed and his other foot still on the floor, to press it to her shoulder. Her good hand reached out to keep it in place. He didn’t take his own hand away at once, glad for the contact. He awkwardly finished what she had started with her wig, his clumsy fingers looking for the pins and taking them off… Once the wig came loose, he repeated the operation with her real hair until her blond curls tumbled down, a little crumpled from having been forced under that thing…

The fruity smell of her shampoo briefly covered the characteristic smell of faint sweat and baby powder she always covered her palms with before a show. He let out a long deep breath and drop his forehead on her injured shoulder, the heat from the hot-water bottle almost too much to be borned next to his face.

“Haymitch…” she whispered, a little tentatively.

“I told you those ropes would _fucking_ give.” he spat.

“It is not very elegant to say _I told you_ so.” she tried to joke.

“I knew it. I _knew…_ ” he continued, not even completely aware of the interruption. His heart was still racing. He was starting to fear it would never calm down again. “You could have _died_. You could have… I thought…” He had thought she was _dead_. For a second while she was hanging up there, she had _already_ been dead in his mind. He pressed his mouth against her neck once, then he did it again… “ _Fuck_ , Effie… _Fuck…_ ”

He had thought it was desire.

Desire and maybe a tiny little crush.

He had thought…

He had been stupid. _Stupid_.

The thought that he could have lost her… The thought that he could have had to spend the rest of his life without her nagging and her easy smiles and…

He had never wanted to be back in that position, to care so much about another human being again… And now there he was and…

“ _Fuck…_ ” he whispered against her neck, dropping another kiss there. He wasn’t sure when he had wrapped an arm around her, when his hand had coiled around her injured arm… 

She wriggled a little, tried to adjust the hot water bottle without disturbing him… He moved to the side of the bed and she let out a small disappointed humming sound so he tugged a little on her waist.

“Come here…” he demanded, opening his other arm. “Lie down with me. Won’t touch you… Won’t… I just want… I need…” He needed to hold her. He needed to hold her until his heart finally realized she was right there, _miraculously still there,_ and not a heap of broken bones. She must have understood because she did lie down, facing him. He cradled her close until there was no more space between them, his hand replacing hers on the hot water bottle to keep it in place. “Won’t touch you…” he repeated because it sounded important somehow. He didn’t want to overstep her boundaries.

“What if I want you to touch me?” she murmured. She reached out for his face with her injured arm which reassured him a little because it couldn’t have been that badly hurt then…

“Don’t…” he breathed out, closing his eyes, when her fingertips retraced his cheekbone, the line of his jaw…

_Don’t tempt me. Don’t let me. Don’t…_

Her lips brushed against his and it was like an electric shock all the way down to his toes.

“Effie…” he begged.

“It’s alright…” she promised. “It’s alright…”

And then she was kissing him again and… The kiss grew hard immediately, hard and hot and messy in ways he hadn’t known a kiss could be. There was nothing chaste or innocent to it and even though their hands remained in safe places, it felt _dirty_ …

He slipped his tongue in her mouth when she parted her lips, taking control of the kiss, but it was him who ended up on his back as she cradled his head and half climbed on him. The heat of that kiss… He had never known kissing could be like _that_. Intoxicating, yes. But so _hot_?

His hand dropped the water bottle to land on her ass. He caressed and kneaded in turn, spurred on by the tiny noises she was making in his mouth… He was hard and dizzy with _need…_ His shirt was half undone and her hand sneaked inside, exploring his chest, her nail caught his nipple and he groaned against her lips, deserting them to lick up the line of her jaw…

“Haymitch…”

She made his name sound so raw, so _needy_ …

Then she bit down at the juncture between his neck and shoulder and his sight flashed white.

He rolled them over, forgetting all about her shoulder. She tensed and sucked in some air, momentarily short of breath – and not in a good way.

“ _Shit_.” He made a face, propping himself on his elbow to brush his fingers on her shoulder, slowly nudging the golden strap off, waiting for a protest that never came… His mind wasn’t entirely in the gutter anymore though… “You’re sure you don’t want me to find a doctor?”

He felt around for the water bottle and pressed it back against her shoulder.

“I am fine.” she sighed, more irritated than in pain. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him down again. He went willingly enough, meeting her open mouth with his.

_Fuck_ but kissing her…

He could have grown drunk on that.

Worse, he might have come from the kissing _alone_.

Her hips were thrusting against his and he took his weight off her again, resting his forehead against hers with a groan. “Easy, sweetheart, before we take it somewhere you don’t wanna go…”

“I really, _really_ want to go there, Haymitch.” she retorted, tilting her head to the side so she could peck his mouth. He let her. Hell, _he kissed back_.

But he didn’t let her deepen the kiss again.

“You had a shock and you’re hurt and I ain’t having you regretting this in the morning…” he insisted, bumping his nose against her jaw.

“I am pretty certain I will make my peace with it.” she huffed, angry or frustrated or somewhere in between.

That made him smirk. “Yeah?” He wasn’t sure what he would have done – cave or stand his ground – but a long determined knock at the door saved him from having to make that decision. “That’d be the kids wanting to know if you’re in one piece.” he guessed.

She let out a groan and sunk her head harder into her pillow with a pout that was far too cute for him not to kiss away. He tore himself off her before he could completely lose it and take her right there with the kids behind her door.

“I’m gonna go check everything’s going alright with the dismantling, yeah?” he suggested, halfway through to the door already.

“Come back after.” she demanded.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder and licked his lips. “Ain’t sure that’s the best idea. Ain’t very good at keeping my hands off you.”

“Good. I want them on me.” she replied without batting an eyelash.

“You’re hurt.” he argued.

“I’m _fine_.” she snapped.

“Yeah? Lift your arm over your head.” he challenged. She glared at him but didn’t even try. “Point made. When we do this, it ain’t gonna be with you in pain.”

She pursed her lips and sat up, ignoring the new round of knocking on the door – this one was more uncertain. “So it is a _when_ and not an _if_?”

He shrugged. “It’s always been a _when_ for me. You were the one with an _if_.”

“I see.” she said softly, dropping her eyes to the comforter before looking up straight at him again. “Very well.”

“Very well?” he repeated with lifted eyebrows.

“Yes. No questions asked. No strings attached.” she clarified, waving her good hand in the air. “I am tired of… I want this. _You_. Whatever you want to give me, I will take. If it is to be just sex, then so be it.”

He stood there and stared at her for a long time, letting the third round of knocking go unanswered, then he rubbed the back of his neck and fixed his gaze on her dressing table rather than at her.

He could still run, he figured. Find another circus or go back to his shack in Virginia. Put enough distance between them that he might have a chance at forgetting how blue her eyes were when she laughed. Put enough distance between them that he stopped caring if she lived or…

No.

No, he couldn’t.

It was too late and she had played her cards too well. It was uncharitable to think about it that way, of course. She had always been pretty straightforward in what she wanted from him and he had been the one putting distance. And besides the whole _feelings_ thing, there was another pull deep inside him. One he hadn’t felt in _years_. He had liked having a woman to share his life with. He had liked it and he wanted that particular partnership again. _With her_.

Who was he kidding anyway? They were already there in all the ways that weren’t… They spent most of their time together, be it for work or leisure. They were a team, as she liked to remind him. He missed her when she was too busy or too angry to be around him. He sought her out. He hated it when she crushed her cigarette and said goodnight after the shows because it meant parting for the night and…

“I want the strings.” he muttered, so low he was half-sure she hadn’t heard.

But she caught it. He knew she caught it because relief flashed on her face and then joy and then… Then she kneeled on the bed and crawled to its foot and outstretched a hand that he grabbed out of reflex.

“Come back after you are done.” she requested again. His grey eyes flickered to her shoulder but she squeezed his hand. “We will take it slow. We won’t do anything yet. I just… Please, come back.”

He was about to answer when the knocking echoed again and he rolled his eyes, aggravated beyond measure. He dropped Effie’s hand and tore the door open, glaring hard at the group of kids in front of the trailer.

He wasn’t even surprised that Katniss and Johanna were leading the charge and had probably been the ones hammering on the door.

“Can’t take a _fucking_ hint, can you?” he scoffed.

Jo’s gaze traveled down his half open shirt and she made a face. “Where’s she?”

He rolled his eyes. “Inside. _In one piece_.”

“She _better_ be.” Johanna hissed to Katniss’ clear puzzlement. That girl was too innocent, it would come back to kick them all in the ass.

He navigated through the sea of worried teenagers, promising to the two anxious twelve year-old at the back that Effie was _fine_ before taking off into the night toward the ring, leaving her to deal with her hoard of adopted children.

The night air did him some good. If anything, it helped calm down the erection that had made his pants uncomfortably tight.

“How’s she?” Chaff asked as soon as he stepped into the Big Top. The crew was already in the process of taking everything down under his careful supervision.

“Okay.” Haymitch offered. “Shoulder’s hurt but nothing major.”

“You wanna take her to a hospital?” his friend asked. “Or I can send one of the boys to find a doctor…”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t want to go. I think she’s good. We’ll see tomorrow if it swells too much.”

It was going to bruise, that much he could guess, and she wasn’t going to be up to much for a few days. Maybe a couple of weeks. They would need to rework the acts.

Chaff looked him up and down and then clasped his shoulder with his good hand. “ _You’_ re okay?” He thought about lying, pretending everything was fine but his best friend saw straight through that before he could even say anything. It was written on his face probably. “Yeah.” Chaff sighed, squeezing his shoulder once. “Thought it was gonna end badly too.”

“It was too close.” Haymitch agreed. “No more _fucking_ around. Get me a list of all the stuff that needs replacing, yeah?”

“Including your handcuffs that don’t always open properly?” Chaff snorted, a tad mocking. “You’ve been on her case about those ropes forever but you’re just as bad. What happens if those handcuffs don’t open when you’re stuck in that fish tank?”

“Put it on the list.” he replied, folding his arms in front of his chest.

Chaff’s dark eyes lingered on him a little longer and his friend’s lips twitched. “You’ve been mauled by some wild cat, buddy? Thought Prim had locked Buttercup up for the night…”

Haymitch glared at him and then cleared his throat, running a hand in his hair in hope of flattening it out. Then he buttoned his shirt all the way up, noticing as he did so that there _were_ some scratches on his upper chest. And there was a tender area on his neck where she had bitten down so he probably had a mark anyway and…

What did he care?

“You’ve got it here?” he asked, ignoring the unspoken question.

“I’ve _always_ got it.” Chaff replied. “Go check on your girl.”

He didn’t even protest the possessive pronoun. He made a short stop by his trailer to change into jeans and another shirt and then trekked back to hers.

She must have gotten rid of the kids because when he knocked it was her voice bidding him entry. He almost regretted coming back because… She was in bed, in a nightgown that couldn’t have been accused of being skimpy but that was still thin and silky and… How was he supposed to control himself when she looked like _that_?

“Annie helped me change.” she said, clearing her throat when he stayed silent too long.

She looked a bit more nervous now than she had been earlier and it didn’t get better when he slowly crossed the short distance to the bed.

“How’s the shoulder?” he asked, sitting down next to her hip. He brushed his fingers against her arm, noticing the hot-water bottle was still in easy reach and had been refilled.

“Would you all stop asking me that?” she sighed.

“Maybe stop falling from the top of the tent, then.” he retorted, not quite as lightly as he had intended it.

“I did not _actually_ fall.” She pouted like a sulking child.

And he couldn’t help himself.

Her pout, he decided, was extremely attractive.

He didn’t know if she expected the kiss but she didn’t protest it either way. In a matter of seconds they were all over each other again, hands carefully exploring, tongues probing, noses bumping in their despair to get _more_ …

She was the one who broke the kiss this time and he chased after her mouth but she only gave him a few more pecks before placing her hand on his chest, gently but with clear intent.

“The adrenaline came down and…” she winced.

“You’re tired.” he surmised, stealing another peck.

“Exhausted.” she admitted. “Too much for… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he snorted. “I’m the one who said you weren’t getting my virtue tonight, Princess.”

She buried her face in his shoulder, laughter shaking her. “ _What_ virtue?”

He dropped a kiss against her cheek, her neck, her injured shoulder… “I ain’t the one who’s into tying people to their bed. That makes me the virtuous one.”

“I would like to see _that_.” she mocked. “Perhaps we should call you the Virtuous Illusionist instead of the Victor Illusionist from now on.”

“Over my dead body.” he deadpanned and then kissed her again. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He went to stand up but she stopped him with a hesitant hand on his thigh. “You could stay. Just to sleep.”

The thought of holding her through the night was tempting because he was pretty sure he would have nightmares alone in his bed. He was also pretty sure he would opt for drinking more than he should have and foregoing sleep as long as possible. But being in her bed when she was only wearing a nightgown and the simple act of kissing made him grow hard in his pants…

“You’re too hot and I don’t trust myself.” he denied, shaking his head.

She studied him for a few seconds and then fought a smile. “And you claim not to be a gentleman…”

“Shut up.” he grumbled, stealing one last kiss and getting up before she could convince him to stay. She was too good at making him do what she wanted. “Night, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight.” she whispered, sinking under her covers with her hot-water bottle.

He was ready to bet she was a blanket thief.

And he was strangely alright with the idea of her stealing his blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeaaaah... This happened! Did you like it? Let me know!


	10. Bookkeeping

“Stop trying to distract me.”

Effie’s giggles didn’t encourage him to obey. Haymitch brushed her blond hair to the side to get access to her nape and kept on dropping kisses all over her neck. She valiantly tried to remain focused on her leather bound books, her pen hovering in the air as she mentally tried to do the math…

They were sitting on her bed, with him behind her, and there were papers and books spread around. She was trying to do the bookkeeping because it was the end of the month and he was very much trying to do _something else_.

“You’re so easily distracted, maybe you _want_ to be.” he retorted against her skin, his lips stretching into a smirk.

His hand strayed from her hip to the little bow on her belt. He had tried to pull on it twice already but she had stopped him each time. He was pretty sure getting rid of the bow wouldn’t loosen her blue dress anyway. There was a row of buttons that was running between her breasts to her waist but he hadn’t dared try that yet.

“Do _you_ want everyone to get paid tomorrow?” she hummed, scribbling down a number down a column before tapping another with the tip of her pen.

“I think I’m being pretty clear on what I want…” he snorted, brushing his lips against her nape again.

“We have an agreement.” she grinned. “Am I still grounded?”

He groaned but refused to be deterred and toyed with that little bow a little more frankly. The _fucking_ bow was a tease anyway. It begged to be undone. 

He felt like a fifteen year-old boy again. In the last two weeks, they had kissed and grown flustered with need only to stop before it could get serious. Again and again. It had been his doing at first because he hadn’t wanted to take it further while her shoulder still bothered her but then she had started getting better and she had begun to sulk about not being allowed back in the air…

“Talk to Finnick.” he grumbled. “He’s your partner. I’ve got no say.”

A few men from the crew had made the trip to the supplier and came back with replacement for everything Chaff had deemed too busted to use – hence the needed adjustments to the accounts. That also meant the frayed ropes had been replaced and it was safe for the aerial artists again.

Finnick had been very reluctant to let Effie come back too soon though. He didn’t want her to hurt herself further and had forbidden her to get back on the tightrope or the trapezes. When Effie had pitched a fit, the young man had said she should take it up with Haymitch who, per their agreement, was after all in charge of the show.

Haymitch had found himself between a rock and a hard place because he knew Effie had a tendency to downplay serious injuries but he also didn’t want to tell _the circus’ owner_ that she should remain on the ground.

Hell, no…

That was a lie.

He wouldn’t have had any problems telling her she was banned from going up there if she had still been _just_ the circus owner. But she had tricks and pouts and she had _vowed_ he wouldn’t have her until she was back on a trapeze and, so far, she was staying true to that promise.

She had started stretching and doing warm-ups again but Finnick still didn’t want her to go back in the air.

“ _Don’t_ you have a say?” she challenged with a knowing tone.

“It’s your circus, sweetheart.” he said innocently, nuzzling the side of her neck. She tilted her head to the side and he took that as the only invitation he needed. He nibbled on the delicate flesh and pulled on that damned bow… The belt fell away but the dress remained in place, just like he had thought.

Could she feel his frustration? Probably. It amused her, he guessed.

“Shouldn’t you be rehearsing?” she asked.

It was that time of the afternoon when most of them gathered under the Big Top to go over their acts or try something new. He was still trying to perfect the fish tank act. He was escaping from a locked box for now during the shows but he didn’t find it as impressive.

“My assistant’s missing.” he reminded her, letting his hand fall on her thigh. He slowly rubbed her leg a few times before hitching the fabric up…

“I am sure you could find a suitable replacement.” she replied. “Johanna is not doing such a bad job during the shows,  is she?”

“Jo’s not as hot as you.” he mumbled against her shoulder.

Her dress was bunched around her waist now and her legs were on display… He had seen them bared often enough during the performances but he had never really _touched_ before. He brushed his fingertips against the length of her thigh, marveling at the goosebumps the caress left in its wake…

“I certainly hope not.” she huffed, dropping her head back on his shoulder. “Still… You should be practicing and _I_ should be taking care of the books.”

“Oh, I’m practicing…” he chuckled in her ear. “Wanna see a magic trick?”

He rubbed his hands together in front of her face and then placed one back on her inner thigh, much higher than before. That got a soft gasp out of her and she barely noticed when he passed his other hand over her front.

She did notice all the buttons of her dress popping open though…

“How…” she exclaimed.

“Magic.” he smirked smugly, already reaching inside her dress to cup a breast. He couldn’t get a good view of her bra but the fabric felt lacy under his palm and he swallowed back a groan, his hips jerking forward a little. His thumb rubbed her already hard nipple and his other hand searched its way beneath her dress. “You want to stop, now’s a good time to say it…”

He was starting to grow desperate.

His hand was a poor substitute and he really, _really_ needed…

“Haymitch…” she breathed out.

She leaned harder against him, her legs opening even more… He had _barely_ touched her over her panties, his other hand instinctively clutching her breast, when she reached behind her for his neck and pulled him down in a kiss. The angle was a little awkward for kissing but it was perfect for the rest and he didn’t wait before slipping his fingers under the lace of her underwear, his hips jerking again when he realized she was already wet. She must have been more distracted than she had let on.

He stroked her slowly, spurred on by the noises she was making but slowed down by the lack of room her panties allowed. He wasn’t sure when he had tugged down her bra but her breasts were spilling over its cups now, small but round and firm. _Perfect_. So perfect he wanted to taste and lick and maybe bite a little… But first…

Her hands were gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise, her head was tossed back on his shoulder and her eyes were closed. Her breathing was speeding up and her hips were rolling every time he touched her clit. When he slipped a finger inside, she _mewled_.

“More. Please, Haymitch, I need more.” she demanded, squeezing his thighs even harder.

He added another finger and watched, in awe, as her soft whimpers turned into full blown moans. He had never been with a woman that vocal but he wasn’t surprised she couldn’t shut up even in bed. He decided he liked it though. It was easier to figure out what was working for her and what wasn’t.

He kept her on the edge on purpose, rather enjoying watching her wriggle and beg him for more… He was hard and throbbing and being trapped in his pants was starting to get painful so he stopped toying with her breasts to undo his belt and pop his jeans open.

He _was_ going to finish her with his fingers first though, finish her, take her, have her climax again… He wanted…

“Effie!” The knocks on the door barely preceded Glimmer’s voice and the handle rattled…

Haymitch snatched both hands away, pretty sure he hadn’t locked the door behind him because he hadn’t exactly been planning on this when he had stalked Effie all the way back to her trailer earlier. He had honestly just wanted to talk about the circus.

“Don’t come in!” Effie screamed in panic, bolting away from the bed.

The door froze half open and Haymitch quickly turned his back to it to cover himself. Not as easy as it seemed with a raging erection and jeans that were becoming a bit too tight thanks to Sae’s cooking. Effie was quicker, it seemed, because she was suddenly in front of the door, blocking the girl’s view of the inside of the trailer.

“What is it, dear?” she asked in the same cheerful caring voice she always used with the kids. She had her favorites, of course – Peeta, Prim, Finnick, Annie and Rue being amongst those – but she always made a point of treating them all the same way.

“Cinna’s here!” Glimmer told her with obvious joy.

A joy Effie echoed with a happy exclamation and, before Haymitch could understand what was going on, they had both jogged away.

He blinked, left alone with an ajar door, and jeans that were extremely uncomfortable. Well, the jeans were fine. The hard-on on the other hand…

Too curious – and a bit irritated – to remain there and wait for his problem to pass, he wandered out of the trailer and followed the noises to the edge of their camp. He reached the crowd in time to see Effie fling herself in a black man’s arms without a care for the propriety she always lectured him on.

Haymitch’s jaw clenched. The stranger was wearing jeans, a soft blue shirt and a suit jacket in an odd mismatch of clothes that somehow looked stylish rather ridiculous. He was also hugging Effie far too intimately for his taste. The man’s face was pressed against the neck he had spent hours kissing and…

Effie tore herself from his arms to embrace the black woman standing next to the man. Haymitch hadn’t noticed her but once he did, he wasn’t sure how he could have missed her. She was _beautiful_. And crying. So was Effie though. But they seemed to be tears of joy. They didn’t appear to be able to stop clinging to each other.

“Cinna!”

The cry came from somewhere behind him and Haymitch turned just in time to see Katniss run all the way from the animals paddock, followed at a slower pace by Prim and Annie. The girl jumped on the man, laughing in a childish display he had rarely witnessed from her. The so-called Cinna actually swung her around in the air, laughing himself, before placing her down on the ground.

“How’s my girl on fire?” the man asked, placing a hand on the top of her head. “You’ve grown bigger again.”

“I’m not a child anymore.” she scoffed, batting away the hand but the usual scowl didn’t appear on her face. She was actually _smiling_.

There was more hugging. Prim and Annie had reached them and they seemed just as happy to see the man as the others were. They hugged the woman Effie had finally released too.

“Are you back for good?” Rue asked, her dark eyes full of hope.

Cinna shook his head, a shadow passing on his face. “I’m going back in a couple of days.”

The way he said that… Haymitch didn’t need to ask _where_ he was going back to. He could see it now. The tension in the man’s shoulders, the way his eyes kept darting around, the nervous clenching of his fist at his side and the discreet struggle to keep the smile on his face…

He wasn’t the only one who had noticed. A few members of the work crew had gathered to see what the commotion was about and were now turning away, knowing looks on their faces. _Haunted looks_ for some. Sometimes, it was easy to forget about the war. The circus was a closed world. They lived in their own bubble.

“But we couldn’t _not_ come and see you!” the woman added with the same kind of cheer Effie sometimes used. The one that was fake but aimed at reassuring frightened children. “It’s been so long!”

“Do not remind me!” Effie laughed. And while the laughter wasn’t fake, it had a worried edge to it. “ _You_ could always stay, you know. You are _always_ welcome…”

“The shop is doing well.” the stranger refused with a smile. “And someone needs to keep the fort while Cinna is gone.” She pressed Effie’s arm. “I have new costumes in the car though. And dresses for you if you are interested.”

“I am _always_ interested.” Effie grinned.

Cinna was dragged away to the Big Top by excited teenagers who all wanted to show him something or other and the rest of the crowd started to scatter, leaving only the two women and Haymitch who was leaning against the side of a trailer, hands in his pockets.

“I am so happy to see you!” Effie beamed, her voice softer, more genuine.

“Me too. You have no idea.” the woman sighed.

And then they were hugging again and Haymitch suddenly felt like an intruder. He pushed himself away, intending to go see if Chaff needed help with something – or maybe ask if he knew who they were since he always seemed to know everything that was going on in the circus, as a foreman should – but the sudden movement caught Effie’s attention and she waved him closer.

Too curious to pass, he joined them. Too fast for the woman to completely blink away the tears in her eyes.

“Hi.” he said, feeling a bit awkward. He didn’t do well with emotional women.

“Portia, this is Haymitch.” Effie grinned.

“Oh, the _infamous_ Haymitch.” Portia said, her eyebrows lifting up as her eyes roamed over him, _assessing_ him. “Effie writes about you _all the time._ ”

“ _Hush_.” Effie chided her without any heat, her eyes sparkling with a happiness so pure he couldn’t help but smile a little at her, his earlier annoyance at being interrupted slowly fading. “Portia is my best friend.”

He didn’t even ask how someone with a background like hers – someone with _a mother_ like hers – could have a black woman for a best friend in that day and age. It was Effie and Effie, surprisingly, didn’t have a prejudiced bone in her body. Or if she did, she was hiding it very well.

On a more practical level, Haymitch suddenly felt very conscious of his rumpled shirt and his still too-tight jeans. Meeting the best friend seemed  just as huge as meeting the family – more even because he was pretty sure he _wasn’t_ actually going to ever meet the elusive Trinkets. The pressure was on and…

“I know we had the books to review but you do not mind if I play hooky, do you?” Effie asked with a sweet smile that might have been an attempt at placating him or a way to trick him into caving to her wishes.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna finish the books so you can go gossip with your friend but don’t complain if there are mistakes.”

“You are the _absolute_ best.” she purred, trailing a hand down his arm before dragging her best friend away.

“Don’t you forget it!” he shouted after her.

She didn’t even look back.


	11. Troubles

The show was going well and with Effie’s act missing and Johanna replacing her as his assistant, that was a small mercy.

Haymitch watched Katniss’ performance from the shadow behind the ring, ready to jump back in there when she would wrap it up to announce Glimmer and Marvel.

“She got so much better…” someone commented to his left. He turned his head to find the mysterious Cinna making his way to him with an engaging smile and an outstretched hand. “We didn’t meet earlier. I’m Cinna.”

Haymitch shook the hand because he had no reason not to but there was something about the guy that left him a little guarded. Maybe it was the shadow of Vietnam that stalked his every step, maybe it was the fact that everyone he had talked to that afternoon had only had his name on their lips… Haymitch wasn’t jealous, not at all. But being told that Cinna had been playing ringleader for a very short while before he had left to help Portia with her small tailoring shop – and then left further away to the other side of the world – hadn’t exactly endeared him to him.

He _wasn’t_ jealous.

Why would he be? Sure, he hadn’t really liked the way Effie had jumped in his arms but the guy had a wife and it was obvious they were _friends_ and not… Sure, he resented how _not_ sullen Katniss was around the man when she always scowled and dragged her feet every time he tried to teach her something… Sure, the easy acceptance and the genuine joy the others had displayed at his return rattled him because sometimes he still felt like _the outsider_ … Sure, he had thought he was the first one Effie had chosen to be her right hand and not some sort of replacement for a ridiculously good-looking guy who, on closer inspection, actually wore _eyeliner._

“Haymitch.” he muttered, keeping his grey eyes on Katniss while she shot flaming arrows at various targets. It had been his idea to light the arrows on fire but he was still wary of the flames and always ready to move in case a spark caught the hay.

“I know.” Cinna acknowledged. “You’re all everyone could talk about today.”

Haymitch spared him a glance, his eyebrows lifting up in surprise. “Could say the same about you.”

The man laughed and shrugged. “I haven’t been around in a long time. For some reason, they must have missed me.”

The tone was genuine and Haymitch relaxed a little, telling himself he was being stupid. The guy _had said_ he was going back in a couple of days and even if he actually chose to go AWOL… Even if he joined them… Effie wouldn’t demote him just to give Cinna his place back. He was the ringleader now, that had been one of the terms they had agreed on when she had hired him.

She wasn’t going to replace him now.

“You really did a good job with them…” Cinna continued, nodding at the ring. By _them_ , Haymitch figured he meant the whole circus and not just Katniss. “The show is so much better than it was…”

“Yeah, well… That’s what you get when you have a professional on the team.” he snorted. Cinna smiled at him with clear amusement, apparently not put off by his arrogance.

Haymitch gave it a moment, long enough to go back to the ring to call out Katniss’ name and introduce Glimmer and Marvel, and then took his place back next to the man who was watching with his hands in his pockets, apparently relaxed. Haymitch knew that kind of tricks though. He was ready to bet the hands weren’t in his pockets because he was feeling at ease but because they were shaking.

“You’re going back to Nam soon?” he asked.

“Three days.” Cinna nodded. “I was lucky to get some leave in the first place.” He shook his head and then tossed Haymitch a searching look. “You served?”

“Early on.” Haymitch shrugged. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“You were lucky, then.” Cinna commented. “It isn’t just simply _ugly_ out there. It’s… _madness_. Some guys in my unit call it the arena.” He scoffed. “None of it has any sense anymore.”

“It never had.” he told him.

They talked a little more and while the guy was interesting, Haymitch was almost glad when it was his turn to perform. Cinna had an _intensity_ that made Haymitch ill-at-ease. He was an activist, that much the man had professed willingly and with pride, but the way he talked about it made Haymitch think what he truly wanted to be was a _martyr_.

By the time the show ended and Cinna had moved on to talking with the others, Haymitch felt a little bad for Portia. He had seen men with that spark in their eyes before. It wasn’t long before they would do something stupidly heroic and get themselves killed.

After the show, he left everyone to the improvised party under the Big Top and went to his trailer as soon as Chaff assured him he had everything under control. He didn’t even try to look for Effie that night, doubting she would be ready for her daily cigarette any time soon. He granted himself two mouthfuls of booze and then undressed and got into bed, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep.

An uneasy sleep from which he was snatched by a hand on his bare shoulder an indefinite amount of time later.

He didn’t let himself think or hesitate. Thinking and hesitating meant _certain death_ more often than not. He grabbed the arm, twisted his enemy over him and ended up straddling him with a hand around his throat. Smaller fingers wrapped tight around his wrist, nails dug into his skin…

The pain, small as it was, was enough to tear him from his confused daze.

“Effie.” he breathed out when his eyes finally spotted her face in the semidarkness.

There was a small rectangular window not far from the bed and the night was clear enough. He was in his trailer. Not in a jungle but in his trailer. At the circus. Not the _Quell_ but the _Capitol_. He was safe. He wasn’t being attacked. He was _home_.

“ _Shit_. _Shit_. Sorry.” He let go of her throat quickly and moved off her and to the side, leaving her sprawled and stunned on the bed. “Sorry.”

She cleared her throat and then gingerly touched her neck but eventually turned her head to look at him, the tension slowly leaving her body.

“I won’t lie, I was hoping for a more _enthusiastic_ welcome.” she declared as if he hadn’t _just_ tried to strangle her.

He laughed.

It was nervous and almost hysterical. He was pretty sure his hands were shaking badly.

“ _Never_ startle me awake.” he ordered, almost _snapped_. “Particularly if I don’t know you’re there when I fall asleep.” He forced himself to soften his voice, forced himself to reach out because… _She wasn’t leaving._ If she was scared she was hiding it extremely well. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want…”

“It is alright. My mistake, really. You did not hurt me. You did not even squeeze that hard.” she promised, covering the hand he had placed on her arm. “I am fine.”

He peered at her throat, pretty sure that, hard or not, she would bruise anyway. Her skin was so pale… He had noticed she marked easily.

Still, he felt terrible for having hurt her, a little or not. The guilt was…

She turned on her side and reached out to cup his cheek. His grey eyes snapped to hers.

“I am fine, Haymitch, I promise. I should not have startled you.” she whispered. The uncertainty must still have been dancing in his gaze because she brushed her thumb against his cheekbone. “You would _never_ hurt me.” 

“Not _awake,_ no. At least I hope so.” he scoffed, reaching under his pillow for the knife he kept there and tossing it away. If she was disturbed by that, she didn’t show it. But, then again, she had a good poker face.

“Is it… Is it from your time in…” she hesitated.

“ _Don’t_.” he spat, shaking his head before leaning further in her palm. “I don’t talk about the war.”

“Alright.” she agreed easily. “I am sorry I asked. It is just… I was talking with Portia and she mentioned similar… _issues_.”

Which was probably why she wasn’t _that_ phased by it all, he figured.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, to change the subject. “What time is it?”

“Not that late.” she hummed, lying back down and sprawling on her back like a content cat. Her dress was riding a little high on her legs, her blond hair was tousled on his pillow and the hand she placed on her stomach, right under the row of buttons that laid between her breasts gave him _ideas_. “I lent my trailer to Cinna and Portia, I could not leave them to sleep in their car! I did not think you would mind bunking with me but, of course, I can always go see if Johanna is willing to…”

He kissed her before she could finish that sentence.

The bed was narrow and his front was plastered to her side. There was no way she could miss his quickly growing interest. She chuckled a little against his lips and actually grabbed his head with both hands to deepen the kiss.

Truth be told, he wasn’t too sure if it was kissing or fighting anymore. The heat of her mouth, the fingers tangled in his hair, the way his own dug into her hip…

It was _hellish_ to break that kiss, to press his forehead against hers and take a deep breath…

“What is it?” she frowned and she sounded a little annoyed. Frustrated maybe.

“I’m waiting for someone to _fucking_ interrupt.” he snorted.

She stared at him for a second and then she chuckled… And then her mouth dropped soft enticing kisses along the length of his jaw, all the way up to his ear… She sucked in his earlobe and he sucked in a breath, clenching his fingers at her waist, bundling the dress in his fist…

“No interruption tonight.” she whispered against the shell of his ear. “I am all yours.”

Those words…

Did she know what a sweet torture they were? Did she know just how hot and bothered they made him? Did she know they shot straight to his groin?

_I am all yours._

“Thought you preferred to be in charge?” he mocked – _teased_ really because he was at a point when he would have gladly let her ride him into the sunset if only it meant he would get to have her.

“I am a flexible creature.” she grinned, stealing another kiss.

“ _Flexible_ ’s a good word for it.” he snorted, between two pecks. “Let’s see how much, yeah?”

He pulled her back to her side so they were facing each other, ran a hand under her thigh… Her leg hooked over his hip but his fingers didn’t stop their investigation, they found the soft curve of her ass… And absolutely no fabric…

“They were soaked.” she answered his inquisitive glance and, this time, he didn’t even bother to swallow back the groan because… _How long had she been walking around him without underwear?_ “What was that trick you did earlier? With the buttons?”

He didn’t have much patience for magic tricks right now.

He grabbed the dress and pulled until it tore, buttons flying everywhere. A shocked gasp passed her lips and then she scowled.

“I loved that dress!” she protested but it ended up in a squeal when he sat up to tug the dress off her.

He thought, for a second, that maybe he was being too rough, that he should control himself because… Well, he figured she might not be used to that. Sure, she talked big but when push came to shove…

Of course, then she snatched the sheets away and kicked them to the foot of the bed and if she was bothered to see he slept naked, she didn’t let on. Her eyes roamed on his exposed flesh and he was aware of the weight of her gaze, aware of every flaw on display that told its own story – the swollen scar on his side, the burned part of skin on his shoulder blade, the soft stomach that used to be much firmer – but unable to really _care_ because she was naked too and that was a much more fascinating sight.

He wanted her.

He wanted her _so much._

He wanted her in so many ways, in _all_ the ways…

Her black lacy bra was the only piece of fabric left on her and when he reached around her for the clasp, her hands flew to help him, undo it for him… And then she was _truly_ naked and…

_Fuck_ but she was _magnificent_.

He had known she would be. Of course, he had known. But…

He nudged her down, his nose immediately nuzzling the flat line between her breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth like he had been desperate to do that afternoon. He teased her with his tongue, switched breast only to hear her breathing quicken again… Her legs parted to frame his body, her hands explored his back, briefly groped his ass…  Nails scratched his skin, prompting him to nip at the swell of her breast in rebuke…

Her back arched.

He felt her hand brush his thigh, sneak between their bodies… He prepared himself for it but when her fingers coiled around him, he couldn’t help thrusting into her loose fist anyway.

“Tighter.” he demanded, dropping a kiss over her heart. She tightened her hold but her movement were strangely hesitant. He frowned and propped himself on his elbows to study her face. “What’s wrong?”

She licked her lips and shook her head. “Nothing.”

He nudged her chin up a little, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. It was hard to pay attention, hard to _think_ when her hand was pumping him…

“You wanna stop?” he asked before he was too far gone to do it. “Or… Slow down?”

It would kill him. _Hell_ , it would kill him. But he wasn’t going to force her into something she didn’t want or wasn’t ready for.

“No!” she protested immediately, her legs locking around his own, feet hooked over his calves. “It is _nothing_. You are just… You are bigger than…”

“Yeah?” he smirked, far too smug probably.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop preening like a peacock and…”

Her sentence finished in a moan. He had pried her fingers away and had reached between her legs. She was wet already and that only made him smirk harder because the knowledge that she might want this as much as he did…

He wanted to eat her out.

He wanted her to suck him off.

He wanted…

Fuck, _he wanted_.

But he wasn’t going to last long this time and what he wanted more than anything else was to be inside her.

He touched her and nipped at her breasts until she was incoherent with pleasure. He waited until he was sure she was ready before he nudged his head into her. Her whole body arched with bliss, a small cry escaping her throat.

He chuckled.

“Don’t mock me.” she scowled, out of breath. Her eyes were bright, her pupils blown… She was so beautiful…

“Ain’t mocking you.” he muttered, rocking his hips slowly until he was completely inside. It was difficult to stop himself from pounding into her but he forced himself to remain calm, to leave her time to adjust. There would be time for rough later. Now… Now it had been a long time for her and he wanted this to be _nice_. He _was_ big, it wasn’t just a matter of pride but practicality, and he didn’t want to hurt her. “Shout away. I like it.”

He liked it even more when it was his name she was shouting, he decided a few minutes later when the blood rushed to his ears and he was losing grip on everything that wasn’t her, her warmth and his desperate need to reach his release.

“Harder.” she kept begging between two calls of his name. “Haymitch, harder. _Harder_.”

He forgot any notion of being nice and grabbed her under the thighs, forced her legs over his shoulders, almost bent her in two while he _fucked_ her… Her cries spurred him on. Her voice became higher, louder… A part of him wondered if she could be heard outside the trailer, the rest of him _really_ didn’t care.

When she came, it was with a shout, her fingers buried deep into the muscles of her own thighs as she held herself open for him.

It was hot and dirty in all the right way and the way she kept mumbling his name afterwards like a chant, half unaware of her surroundings as she came down from her high, was _too much_ for him. He felt his balls tighten, felt himself coming… One last thrust and he pulled out just in time to spill all over her stomach. He collapsed on the mess without one care in the world, breathless and sated like he hadn’t been in a long time.

The trailer reeked of sex and for a while, the only noise was their ragged breathing. She petted his hair distractedly and he sometimes dropped kisses against her collarbone. She had hooked one of her legs over his and Haymitch might have fallen asleep like that, sticky mess forgotten, if it hadn’t started raining. The familiar sounds of rain drops on the roof made the whole setting even more intimate, like a cocoon but it also roused them a little.

“Haymitch?” she whispered, sounding sleepy too. “Do you have a towel?”

He mumbled an assent and with a last kiss pressed against her neck pushed himself off her to go rummage in the small utilitarian bathroom. He cleaned himself while he was there and then came back to the bed with a wet cloth to wipe her stomach. After a second of hesitation, he also cleaned her thighs and between her legs. She let him, a soft smile on her lips.

When he slipped back into bed, she immediately snuggled against his side with a content sigh.

He was relieved she didn’t ask why he had pulled out because he didn’t want to have the _kids_ discussion right now. He wasn’t sure he _ever_ wanted to have it. Children… He didn’t think he wanted any. Certainly not while the war was still raging on. He might change his mind in time but…

He knew there were contraceptive methods out there, certain ways to make sure no baby was conceived, but they were expensive and difficult to find and he wasn’t sure they were even legal for unmarried couples. They would have to make do for now.

“I had a thought…” she hummed against his neck.

“You don’t say.” he deadpanned, earning himself a playful slap on the stomach. He pulled her leg higher over his body in answer, only happy once she was half draped on top of him. There was a lot of giggling on her part and a few attempts at biting her shoulder and neck on his. “So? What’s that thought?” he asked when they had stopped fooling around.

“We should do it again.” she grinned.

“That was in question?” he snorted, burying his fingers in her blond hair. He loved her hair, he decided. The curls bounced back into place when he tugged on them. It was a game he could have spent hours playing.

“We should do it again _tonight_.” she clarified, her hand brushing a path down his chest to the thin patch of hair on his lower belly. He shivered, his mouth suddenly parched. He felt himself twitch with renewed interest.

“Give me ten minutes.” he requested.

“Oh, I am pretty sure I can cut that time in half…” she joked and before he could say anything else, her mouth followed the path her fingers had traced and…

When her lips closed on him, he brought his hands to his face and forced himself to breathe not to embarrass himself like a teenager.

She was too perfect.

She was too perfect and he might have been half in love with her already.

At that moment, she could have asked _anything_ and he would have found a way to give it to her.

_Fuck_ , but he was in _so much_ trouble…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo Haymitch is in troubles :p Did you enjoy the smut? We agreed I cannot write that to save my life BUT I did my best! Let me know your thoughts!


	12. Reminders

“Stop thinking about it. It is not happening.” Effie warned.

Haymitch didn’t even turn his head toward her, he kept staring at the highest point of the Big Top, a smirk on his lips. “You’re sure?”

The others had left the tent a while ago, done with their rehearsing and more interested in exchanging gossips and relaxing before people started wandering in to visit the animals before the show. Haymitch estimated they had a little over an hour before the work crew started putting everything in place for the night show and that was _plenty_ of time for…

“Very much so.” she replied in a firm definitive tone he had learned to identify as the _non-negotiable_ one.

Effie had been training Rue that day and after they were done, she had let herself drop on the safety net and had remained lying there until Haymitch had exchanged his wet clothes for dry ones and had joined her. He had been doing the fish tank escape act for a couple of weeks now and, so far, it was going alright, but he still needed to work on his stamina. Holding his breath longer, that sort of things.

They had been lying on that safety net for a while now and it slowly swayed with their every move. Somehow, Effie had taken hold of his arm, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and she was running her nails up and down the length of his forearm, the way she sometimes did on his back when they were naked and tangled up on one of their beds. It was soothing. But not enough that Haymitch’s mind wasn’t straying into the gutter. The slow swaying intrigued him and he was wondering if it was actually _doable_ to have sex on this thing without falling off. He was wondering if it would feel like floating or if the hard rope would cut and burn their skin.

“Why?” he sulked anyway.

She could have chosen a number of reasons, starting with “anyone could come in” and finishing with “a lot of people use the safety net, Haymitch, it is not right” but of course she surprised him.

Because she always did.

And because in the two months since she had first sneaked into his bed – and since that next morning when she had been forced to sneak out of his trailer in one of his shirts since her dress was torn, a fact she hadn’t let him forget for weeks – they had done worse than hasty hook-ups in semi-public places.

“It will be too expensive to replace if we break it.” she said. Practical. Always practical, his girl.

He groaned but had to admit defeat. “Fine.”

“Besides…” she hummed, her fingers coiling around his forearm. “Do you truly want a repeat of last time?”

Last time, they had an explosive fight in the Big Tent after a show and they had completely forgotten where they were. The argument, as often lately, had turned into a kissing mess and then into _more_. He had lifted her up like he often did and had tried to pin her to a wall that wasn’t there. The fabric of the tent had almost torn when they had fallen into it and _that_ would have been awkward to explain the next morning. The worst thing was that it hadn’t even slowed them down. They had just ended up doing it on the hay of the ring instead.

The smirk came back on his lips and he rolled on his side to look at her, making the whole net move. Effie’s body bounced a few times and she laughed like a child when he took advantage of that to sneak his arms around her and pull her closer.

When the net finally stabilized, she was half under him, his arm under her nape as a cushion of sort, hers locked around his waist and his free hand gently brushing her hair off her face. He leaned in and bumped their noses together once before kissing her with the ease that came from a lot of practice.

Most times, when he stopped to reflect, Haymitch felt his behavior was stupid and ridiculous. Fortunately, life in a circus was a demanding one and he didn’t often have time to stop and reflect.

He felt like a kid around her. Not much better than Finnick and the attentiveness he showed Annie in any circumstance. Not much better than the puppy eyes Peeta was making at Katniss. Effie made him feel young and _whole_ and, while he was careful not to be too obvious in front of the others because it wasn’t really his thing, he couldn’t stop himself from standing that little bit too close, brushing against her, touching her… Kissing her. Making her laugh with his eagerness. Making her sigh. Making her moan. Making her whisper incoherent sentences in his neck.

He was too far gone for her and it scared him sometimes. The only saving grace was that she appeared to be just as crazy when it came to him.

The kisses were growing a little heated and she cooled it down, escaping his mouth to peck his jaw in a sweet gesture that wasn’t a prelude to anything else. He knew her foreplay moves, that wasn’t it. He sighed but didn’t try to change her mind, nuzzling her neck with his nose and simply enjoying the too rare moment of calm.

It was difficult to find time together sometimes. She was busy running the circus and he was busy running her show. Pleasure and business didn’t always mix so well.

It was rare that they didn’t end up in the same bed at night though. They hadn’t really talked about it. Often, he joined her for her daily cigarette like old times but ended up following her inside when she was done. Sometimes she showed up at his trailer before he could go search for her. They hadn’t talked about making it a more official arrangement. He thought they both liked having their respective space. Haymitch was messy and she was too neat, their stuff crammed together in one trailer would have been a source of argument.

As it was, she already kept a clean stock of underwear in his bathroom – he wasn’t sure if she knew he had noticed because she certainly hadn’t asked him first – and a few of his shirts were in her trailer – she had kidnapped them to sleep in but it was handy when he needed one in the morning so he hadn’t called her out on that either.

“What are you thinking about?” she hummed when he delicately nipped at the tender spot beneath her ear. Not to start anything. Just to tease. To touch. To taste.

“I’m thinking…” His voice trailed off, a little too raw maybe. “I’m thinking I’m happy.”

There was a touch of awe to his tone, as if he hadn’t been sure of it himself. And he _hadn’t_ , he realized. It had been so long since the last time he had been able to say that, to _mean_ that…

“Yes?” She grinned, her blue eyes sparkling in delight.

“Yeah.” he shrugged and then leaned in to kiss her.

It was a long tender kiss, the sort they didn't often share because they were all about passion. Her nails scraped the stubble that covered his cheeks. He waited for the exasperated comment he had come to expect once every couple of weeks about how he really should shave but it never came.

“I love you.” she whispered instead. A touch uncertain. A touch nervous. A touch vulnerable.

She rarely allowed herself to be any of those things. Effie Trinket was confident to the point of arrogance. And, for a second, the shift in behavior startled him enough that he didn’t register the actual words.

And then he _did._

_I love you._

_I love you._

They weren’t so unexpected, those words. They had been two months in coming. He knew that. She had more or less already implied them when she had clearly stated she did not sleep with anyone she wasn’t _romantically_ _involved_ with.

_I love you._

They weren’t _surprising._

_I love you._

But the last time he had heard them, the last time he had _said_ them back…

He didn’t realize he had frozen until her face fell and then closed off before going back to her more characteristic mask of cheerfulness. He tried to say something, he _did_ , but the words were stuck in his throat and wouldn’t come out.

Not when she started babbling about needing to get a start on her make-up as if it was in any way relevant to their previous conversation.

Not when she slipped out of his arms and off the safety net.

Not when he tried to get off that very net with far less grace and far more difficulties.

All in all, he was almost relieved when Jo barged in with her usual abrupt manners.

At least, he was relieved until he spotted what was wedged between two of her fingers.

“Hey, Trinket!” the young woman called out. “Finnick’s looking for you so if you're done…”

“The _fuck_ do you think you're doing?” Haymitch spat. He was on her before the girl could blink, fingers wrapped tight around her wrist, keeping her hand high in the air, bodily forcing her _back_ …

“The _fuck_! Let me go!” Johanna snarled.

He barely registered the nasty kicks to his legs or the girl’s struggling to free herself. His grip was unyielding and he wasn’t happy until he had her out of the Big Top. He didn’t hear Effie shouting his name, barely noticed the crowd that had come running at Johanna screaming _bloody_ murder.

All he saw, all he _could_ see, was the red glow of the cigarette between Jo’s fingers.

He plucked it out of her hand and crushed it against the side of the ticket booth, staring at the hay surrounding them for the longest time while the young woman yelled her irritation. It took him several minutes to accept no ember would catch, that they were _safe_.

“What the _fuck_ did you think you were doing?” he roared, covering Jo’s angry speech and Effie’s attempts at bringing back calm. Everyone was staring by now. He saw Chaff making his way through the troupe from the corner of his eye. “You’re trying to _burn us all?”_

Johanna didn’t back down. “The _fuck_ do you think _you_ ’re doing grabbing me like that, old man? Try that again and…”

“I catch you with a cigarette near the tents again, you’re _fired_.” he spat.

He was overreacting. Maybe. Or not. He wasn’t sure anymore.

_I love you._

Would he have been that harsh if those words hadn’t still been echoing in his ears?

People who loved him tended to _die._

“So what? You think ’cause you're _fucking_ the boss now you're in charge?” Jo sneered. “You’ve got no right to…”

“Smoking is only allowed near the trailers.” Effie cut in coldly. “You know the rules, Johanna.”

“Figures, you’re taking his side.” the girl cackled bitterly. “You were far more interesting when you weren't his _bitch_.”

Haymitch took a threatening step before he even thought about it and it was probably a good thing Chaff’s good arm grabbed him around the chest. His best friend’s grip was firm and he could feel his every breath against his nape – the unusual heaviness with which the man’s chest was rising.

He wasn't the only one who was distrustful of cigarettes coming anywhere near the Big Top.

“You're a stupid little girl.” Haymitch gritted through his teeth. “You could have killed us all.”

“I was being careful.” Jo dismissed.

“No.” Effie snapped and her voice lashed out like a whip over the whispering crowd. “You _weren’t_. Nobody is allowed to smoke near the tents or the paddocks. Keep it to the trailers.” Her gaze scooped over the troupe and she tilted her chin a little higher. “This is the _last_ incident of the kind I tolerate. Next time, it _will_ be the door to anyone caught in this area with a cigarette. This being said…” She turned toward him, her mouth set in a hard line. “Nothing excuses brutality. It is also the last time I tolerate this sort of aggressive display.”

Haymitch scoffed. “You're kidding me? She brings a _fucking_ cigarette on the ring and you're…”

“Chaff, if you would be so kind, escort Haymitch to his trailer so he can calm down.” she cut him off. “I will be ringleader tonight. We won’t be needing our magician either.”

He half choked on that. “ _What_?”

His only consolation was that he heard Johanna being banned from the show for the day too as Chaff forcibly dragged him away. He was fuming by the time he managed to shrug his friend off.

“Can you _fucking_ believe that?” He scowled, storming to his trailer. He slammed the door open but Chaff closed it slowly behind himself, denying him the pleasure of hearing it bang again. “She’s got _no clue. No fucking clue.”_ He snatched a bottle from the table and tore the cap off before taking a long mouthful. “That stupid kid almost burns her circus down and she punishes _me_? _Hell,_ what business does she have punishing me at all? Ain’t her _bitch!”_ He took another gulp, the whiskey burning all the way down his throat. “She's only pissed ‘cause I…”

_I love you._

His voice faltered. He brought the bottle to his mouth, a little more slowly, and took a smaller sip.

“You're done?” Chaff asked, his tone patient but not really amused. He had sat down at the foot of Haymitch’s unmade bed and had been watching him all throughout that tirade. “You were too rough with the kid.”

He snarled at his friend. “She had a _fucking_ cigarette on the…”

“I know.” Chaff interrupted. “Ain’t saying that was right either. But you didn’t see yourself, the way you grabbed her… _Too rough_. She ain't a Viet-Cong.”

“You think I don't know?” he sneered.

Had he, though? When he got _that_ angry…

“I think you saw the cigarette and you forgot everything else.” Chaff shrugged. “Ain’t saying I would have reacted any better. But you were rough and Trinket can’t allow that or it sets precedents.”

And that was a perfectly valid point of course but…

“I ain’t watching _this_ circus burn down.” he growled. “I _ain’t_ watching any more good people die.”

Chaff sighed, stood up and clapped his shoulder before muttering he needed to go and make sure everything was ready for the show.

Haymitch flopped down on his bed and nursed his bottle for a while, refusing to admit he was sulking but very much doing that. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t end up drunk given his poor mood but he managed to indulge only just enough to feel the buzz.

By the time he ventured out of the trailer, he could  hear the music in the distance. The show had started. A few men from the work crew had lit a campfire in the trailer area and Haymitch wandered past them, nodding to those who greeted him but refusing their offer to sit down with them. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for until he found it. Or _her,_ he supposed.

Johanna was sitting next to the campfire the kids liked to use at night, her legs hugged close to her chest, the glow of another cigarette dancing next to her face.

“Come to try and beat me up some more?” she challenged when she spotted him.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who hit me. Didn’t even raise my hand.”

That was true enough. He could feel the bruises forming on his shins and stomach where she had kicked and punched him but his only preoccupation had been to get her out of the Big Top, away from the hay. He had gripped her wrist tight but that was the only thing he had done to her.

“Still doesn’t make it right.” she sneered.

Haymitch sat down anyway. For a very long moment they didn’t talk at all. They just listened to the faint echo of music. He figured it must have been Prim’s turn by now.

Eventually, he fished his flask from his pocket, took a swing and handed it to Jo. “Shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

She hesitated for a second before snatching the flask and drinking some of the moonshine.

“Shouldn’t have been smoking over there.” she admitted after a long time. She took a few swallows before peering at him curiously. “Is that how it happened, then? Your other circus? A cigarette? ’Cause you don’t freak out nearly as much when Katniss does her Girl on Fire act and it’s more risky than a cigarette, let me tell you.”

But there were people with buckets of water ready to act at the smallest sign of troubles when Katniss performed – his idea – and they were _all there_. Cigarettes were more insidious. By the time you realized what was going on half your life was gone up in smoke.

“Yeah.” he answered simply. He dug the tip of his boot into the dry earth, ill-at-ease. “Didn’t mean to make you freak out with my freak out.”

“Didn’t freak out.” she lied.

“Sure, you didn’t.” he humored her, watching the flames’ shadow dancing on her face. It made him uncomfortable quickly, reminded him of another time, another fire… “We make a fine pair, you and I.”

Johanna snorted, apparently not as insulted as he had thought she would be. “There isn’t a soul in this circus who isn’t _fucked_ up.”

“True enough.” he sighed. “True enough…”

When his flask was empty and her cigarette was gone, she retreated to her trailer and Haymitch slowly returned to his.

He didn’t get ready for the night and he didn’t bother turning on the lights though. He listened to the vague echoes in the distance that told him that the show had ended and that the work crew had started dismantling…

He was sitting across his bed, his back to the wall, his legs half dangling over the edge…

Effie knocked but only once and then she pushed the door open without waiting for an answer. She must have believed he would be either drunk or asleep because she looked surprised when she found him sitting there.

She hadn’t changed out of her outfit yet. She was wearing the old ringleader bodice with its red velvety fabric and the golden embroideries, the golden fluff on her shoulders making the whole thing over the top. Not as much as the top hat and the whip though.

“I do not want to fight, that can wait until morning when you are sober and I do not have this raging headache.” she warned. “I just came to check if you were alright.”

He smirked despite himself because there she was, defiant and stubborn, _bossy,_ irritated and irritating, and he wouldn’t have changed her for the world.

“Nothing to fight about, sweetheart.” he replied.

“Oh, there is _plenty_ to fight about.” she denied, stepping inside instead of hovering on the threshold and closing the door behind her. She turned on the light and he blinked a little at the harsh electrical halo. “You _will_ have to apologize to Johanna, for instance.”

“Already talked to the girl.” he dismissed. “We’re good.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, her hands on her hips as she studied him, looking for a lie perhaps.

“This _cannot_ happen again.” she stated firmly.

“I know.” he offered.

“What I mean is: do _not_ put _me_ in _that_ position again.” she clarified.

“You’ve never complained about the positions I’ve put you in.” he joked but at her glare, he lifted both hands in front of him. “Fine. _Fine_. No kidding about this, got it. Look, out there you’re the boss, you’ve got final say. I’ve got no problem with that.” He shook his head. “Shouldn’t have threatened to fire her, that was your call to make.”

“Yes, it _was_.” she retorted but her face softened. “You snapped back there, Haymitch.”

“I know.” he repeated because it was all he could say about it. He couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again.

With a soft sigh of her own, she slowly came to sit next to him, close enough that their sides were pressed together. “Was it because of what I said before that?”

Some fluff was coming loose from her shoulders and she absent-mindedly plucked it out, toying with the thick golden threads to keep her hands busy.

He didn’t want to talk about what she had said before that.

_I love you_.

He licked his lips. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You do not have to…” she started but he cut her off.

“It was a cigarette. That night.” he explained, staring at the low ceiling of the trailer before closing his eyes, knowing that the images would come no matter if his eyelids were open or closed.

And they came.

The flames licking a path all the way up the Big Top, spreading through the layers of hay and fabrics too fast to be stopped, engulfing the animals paddock, devouring the ones that hadn’t yet been cut loose… That was where his attention had turned first because all he could think about was the money they didn’t have to spare and that they would need to repair… And then the first cries and he had realized that on the other side of the tents, the fire had reached the trailers and the unsuspecting people who had been sleeping in them.

“There weren’t enough men in the work crew already.” he recalled. “We hired locals. Chaff hated the idea ’cause… You know how people can be.” Not everyone was happy with a black man giving orders. Haymitch had always told his friend to send those ones to hell but sometimes need must and he knew Chaff hadn’t always obeyed that instruction, had taken one for the team. “It was one of the hired men. One cigarette. That was all it took, Princess. One cigarette, one spark, and my whole life gone in a blaze.”

He opened his eyes to find her watching him. She was distractedly braiding the golden threads in her hands without even looking at them.

“It wasn’t even that long ago, yeah?” he snorted. Less than a decade. He had been young. Too young to lose everything. “Sometimes I feel like it was yesterday. Sometimes I feel like it was a hundred years ago.”

“I am sorry.” she said and the words rang hollow like they always did because… People could be sorry but that didn’t help him.

“You’ve got no clue what it’s like… Losing everything in one night. You’ve got a family and then an hour later you’ve got nothing but ash. You’re _alone_.” He scowled and then shook his head. “I’m not entirely sorry I scared the girl, you know. Maybe it will make the others think twice before they bring cigarettes over there.”

“Still. Manners.” Effie sighed and when he frowned at her, she waved her hand in the air. “I see your point, Haymitch, I _do_ but… I abhor violence.”

He opened his mouth to argue but she leaned in and pressed a kiss on his lips before he could say something they would probably have both regretted. It wasn’t much more than a long peck but it helped him settle for good, smoothed what was left of anger and fear.

When she drew back, she pressed her forehead against his and he felt her fake eyelashes flutter against his face.

“Effie…” he breathed out. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Tackle the _I love you_ problem or let sleeping dogs lie…

“You are not alone anymore, you know?” she whispered. “I know it scares you sometimes. I understand. But you are not alone.”

She slipped something around his wrist and he looked down to watch her knot the braided threads of golden cords.

“Friendship bracelet?” he mocked. “What are we? Thirteen year-old girls?”

She pursed her lips and spared him an annoyed look that turned him on far more than anything else she could have said or done.

“A token of my affection.” she replied pointedly. “So you never forget about me.”

“As if I could.” he snorted, lifting his hand to inspect the makeshift bracelet. “Looks like a manacle. Fitting, yeah? You’re obsessed with tying me up…”

“You are the one asking for it.” she deadpanned with a sweet smile.

“For the show, sweetheart, for the show…” he smirked.

Not that any locks or bounds could hold him long. And if _she_ had been good at slipping out of handcuffs before, now that he had taught her a few more tricks, it was hard to keep her tied up too.

She rolled her eyes but her lips stretched into a smile and she rested her head on his shoulder, retracing the braided threads with her fingertip. “About earlier…”

She wasn’t going to let it go, then.

“ _Ain’t_ that I _don’t_ feel it.” he said quietly, with a small wince. “’Cause… You know I… _Effie…_ ”

“It is alright.” she promised quickly. “You do not have to…”

“No.” he sighed. “I want you to _get it_. It ain’t that I _don’t…_ It’s just _those words_ … They’ve got memories attached. Not bad ones but...”

“I understand.” she offered when his voice trailed off. “We can… invent new ways of saying it, then.”

“Or we can just _not_ talk about feelings.” he snorted, bumping his nose against her blond curls before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I ain’t complaining about this stupid golden bracelet, ain’t I? Should tell you everything.”

It must have because when she kissed him next, it wasn’t chaste and it was certainly not sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch has his token ( of sort)! Did you like it?? Let me know!


	13. A Surprise Visit

The knocks on the door were short but quick and determined.

Haymitch groaned in Effie’s hair, tightening his arm around her waist and instinctively curling up a little more, fighting the sounds that wanted to tear him out of sleep.

“Go get it.” she mumbled and, from the particular quality of her voice, he knew she was barely awake too.

He glanced at the small window and groaned again when he realized it couldn’t be much later than dawn. Far too early for anyone to bother them in any case. It was their second day in that town, the work crew shouldn’t have any pressing matter to bring to them and anyone knew better than rush performers out of bed so early.

“It’s your trailer.” he grumbled, burying his face in the pillow and the blond hair spread on it.

“Is there anyone left in this circus who does not know we sleep together every night?” she retorted quickly.

The answer to that question was _no_. Save maybe for the few more recently hired people. It had been more than six months since they had started this, winter was creeping in again and there wasn’t any secret left to preserve. Not that they had really _tried_ to keep it a secret in the first place.

They had picked up a few people in the recent months: a woman with fangs for teeth who was better than anyone he had ever seen at handling a whip and a pair of blond siblings acrobats who could have passed for older Marvel and Glimmer. The woman with fangs, Enobaria, had come with two domesticated wolves and a forty-year old guy who answered to the name Brutus, who didn’t have any particular talent but who had immediately been adopted and put to work by Chaff because of his experience in construction. Haymitch liked Brutus more than he liked Enobaria or the Richmond siblings, he had his darkness like most vets did but he was also cheerful and positive in a way that reminded him of Effie.

All those people without exception probably thought he and Effie were married.

They had never asked – not to them directly, at least – and it had been made clear from the start Effie was the boss but they were far too domestic those days. Besides, the ringleader and the trapeze artist had been sharing a trailer – well, two, they still liked to have their own respective space – ever since the new ones had come on board.

“Too complicated sentence.” he countered. “You’re more awake than me.”

“I am just more eloquent even when I am asleep.” she shot back, curling up under the heavy blankets. He automatically curled up around her, knowing she was probably cold. Effie was _always_ cold. And he was always too hot under the mountain of blankets she insisted on piling on the bed but he suffered it for her sake because her feet were always like ice cubes at night.

The knocks came again. He waited for a familiar voice to call to them, maybe identify themselves so they could judge the severity of the emergency and either go investigate or ignore it altogether.

“It’s your circus.” he reminded her after a beat because she had let out a soft sigh that usually meant she was about to fall asleep.

“I am tired.” she complained.

“Yeah, me too.” he shrugged, nuzzling her nape.

“ _You_ tired me.” she pointed out.

Under the blankets, his fingers drummed on her silk clad stomach. “Not last night.”

They hadn’t done anything the previous night, they had been dead on their feet from the road and the show. She wouldn’t have been wearing that purple nightgown if he had done anything to her. He liked it when they slept naked, skin against skin.

She sighed as the knocks came again, more impatient, but it was in defeat this time.

“ _Please_ , Haymitch.” she whispered, her foot stroking the length of his shin. “I need to sleep a little more.” There was very little he could refuse her when she used that tone and he knew he had lost but he groaned again. A token resistance because it wouldn’t have done to let her know he was whipped. Her fingers brushed against his wrist. “I will make it up to you later.”

It was his turn to sigh as he started the long and painful process of extricating himself from their comfortable nest of blankets. It wasn’t that difficult to do though. The bed was narrow for two people and his ass usually ended up poking out because – surprise, surprise – she liked taking all the space.

“Hope they won’t mind me opening the door like that.” he snorted.

She didn’t even glance at him. “Put some pants on, at least.”

“Why?” he grumbled. “They knock so early, they should be ready to see _stuff_.”

He slept naked and made no apologies for it. Making other people uncomfortable was just an added bonus.

“In case it is one of the girls.” she mumbled and then pressed the pillow over her head to block the sounds.

“If it’s one of the kids, they’re here for you and you’re making me get up for _nothing_.” he complained under his breath.

But if it was Prim or Rue, he would probably feel less inclined to rip off the intruder’s head. He couldn’t help but soften around the girls. They were too adorable for it to be otherwise. But they were also young girls and they had young girls problems that Effie was far better equipped to deal with in the absence of their mothers than he was.

He did slip his pants on, fumbling with one leg because he wasn’t awake enough and making his irritation rise up another notch. He really wasn’t in a good mood when he tore the door open, cutting off another round of knocking and already glaring.

He had honestly expected Chaff with an apologetic expression on his face but a serious look in his eyes because there would be a real problem somewhere one of the two people in charge _had_ to fix.

He hadn’t expected the stranger that took a hasty step back faced with his bare-chested anger and  who almost toppled off the metal stairs altogether in the process.

She was of an indefinite age but he would have guessed late fifties, maybe sixties. Her hair was blond but the color was slightly off and he figured that meant she dyed it to look younger. She was wearing expensive clothes: a woolen suit with a straight skirt, an elegant jacket, long gloves, two rows of pearls around a delicate neck and a hat pinned on carefully styled hair… It was all very… _Jackie_. Or at least the little he had ever seen of Jackie Kennedy. He wouldn’t have claimed to be an expert.

What was really clear though was that the woman had _nothing_ to do on his doorstep so _damn_ early in the morning.

Perhaps she had gotten lost or her car had broken down nearby and she had sought refuge in the circus to find help? That happened sometimes. But then why wake _him_ up?

He glanced around, noting that there seemed to be a lot of activities around the trailers, far much more than usual, and that everyone around them – from Sae to Finnick – seemed to be covertly watching.

Definitely not a  broken down car, then.

“Lady, we’re not open yet.” he said because the woman had yet to open her mouth.

She was staring at him, her blue eyes roaming on his exposed chest with something that could have been shock only to stop on the huge scar that ran along his right side. He hated people staring at the scar. He had only recently reconciled with the idea of Effie touching it and kissing it – then again, she had arguments he liked.

“I apologize.” she replied in a tone that carried _zero_ apologies. “They must have indicated the wrong trailer.”

_They must have indicated the wrong trailer,_ not _I must have picked the wrong trailer._

Oh, Haymitch hated her already. Not only had she interrupted what could have been a nice lie-in but she was far too arrogant for his taste. She reeked of money and privileges and everything he loathed.

Next to the kitchen trailer, Finnick had stopped pretending to study the sky and the upcoming weather to openly stare, clutching a forgotten cup of coffee in his hands.

The _fuck_ was going on…

His grey eyes darted from the boy back to the woman and he frowned, waiting for her to clarify what she meant. She had clearly been expecting him to be more helpful and ask the obvious question – whose trailer had she been looking for? – because she huffed, her lips pursed.

The huff and the pursed lips were too familiar and he suddenly had a _very bad_ feeling.

She didn’t depart from her blank polite mask but it was obvious to him she had already dismissed him as a rude low-life. She didn’t say it or show it but she _made him feel_ it in the way she looked at him.

“I am looking for Effie Trinket’s trailer. I believe she owns this… _business_.” the woman said. Oh, the way she spat that word… “If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction…”

The bad feeling only increased.

“And what do you want with Effie?” he asked, mentally cursing whoever had sent her to Effie’s trailer. Because he had a good idea of who the woman was and he didn’t dare glance to the right to check if Effie was awake and had any particular instruction as to how to handle this situation.

He had a feeling she _was_. He could feel the side of his neck prickling where she was staring at him from under the nest of blankets.

“That is between me and her, now, isn’t it?” the woman retorted with a fake smile, her tone a little bored. “Now. Will you point me in the right direction or not?”

“Look…” He forced himself to sound a little less aggressive in an attempt at salvaging the situation. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen trailer, yeah? They can give you some coffee and I’m just gonna… I’m gonna find Effie for you. Sounds good?”

The kitchen trailer was in the middle of the trailers park and there was a clean view of Effie’s trailer from there but he _hoped_ Finnick or Sae would have enough good sense to distract her long enough that Effie could sneak out and pretend she was coming from somewhere else. It wasn’t that he cared much about what the woman thought but he could tell just at the deadly stillness on his right that Effie really didn’t want to be caught with a half-naked man.

She had shared a few tales about her mother in the last few months and few were nice. She still dutifully wrote home though, invited them all to come to the circus, sending the schedule ahead so they could find them… She suffered from the distance her family had imposed.

Unfortunately, the woman only narrowed her eyes at him. “This _is_ her trailer, isn’t it? There wasn’t any mistake.”

He swallowed hard and finally glanced to his right.

Effie was sitting in the middle of their bed, wide eyes and tousled blond hair, looking far too much like they _had_ been doing something they hadn’t _actually_ done in two days. She also looked _terrified_.

It shocked him because he had never seen that particular expression on her face. Not even when she had almost fallen to her death.

“Mrs Trinket…” he started firmly, intending to kick the woman out by any means necessary until he could figure out what Effie wanted to do. He hadn’t really expected to get a surprisingly heavy purse slammed into his stomach and it cut his breath enough that he stepped back when she shoved him, leaving enough room for her to slip inside the trailer.

Now, three people in that small space immediately made it feel crowded but Elindra Trinket didn’t stay long anyway. Barely long enough to exchange a charged look with her daughter who was still frozen in their bed.

“I had hoped that while your reputation was irremediably tarnished, you had not fallen so low as to forget our values.” the stranger stated coldly, waving her hand toward Haymitch without sparing him a glance. “Is _this_ one of the attractions you offer in the poor excuse of what you call a circus, I wonder? Does that oaf pay for the pleasure of your company or haven’t you sunk _that_ low yet?”

“ _Hey_!” Haymitch snarled just as Effie whispered a broken “Mother”, her blue eyes full of tears.

“No matter. You are no daughter of mine any longer. I had _hoped_ you could see reason but...” Mrs Trinket shook her head and fished a bundle of letters tied with a pink ribbon from her purse and tossed it on the bed. “They keep coming at the house. I trashed away a few but one came with a note addressed to me and... “ She pursed her lips and snorted. “It seems you have a friend in dire need of contacting you and she was not sure where to send her letters. You have been remiss in your correspondence. It seemed important enough for me to reach out. I regret it now.”

Effie didn’t reach for the letters, she didn’t even _move_. Not until Elindra Trinket spun on her heels and left the trailer.

“What a _bitch…_ ” Haymitch spat once the silence had fallen once more.

It was like a switch had been flipped. Before he could try to touch her, Effie had shot out of the bed and ran off. Haymitch swore under his breath. She was barefoot and wearing only a flimsy nightgown when the weather really wasn’t good enough for it. He pushed his feet in his own boots without bothering with socks or the laces, grabbed her heels and the ringleader jacket he had tossed on a chair the previous night and hurried after her.

He didn’t have to go too far.

Effie had halted her mother’s flee by grabbing her arm and was audibly pleading with her to wait and give her time to explain herself.

They were _quite_ the attraction too. It seemed everyone was up and watching the drama unfolding now. He spotted Katniss and Prim standing close to each other next to their own trailer, the kid was clutching a bucket of fresh water clearly meant for Buttercup and Katniss looked like she was ready to shoot an arrow into Mrs Trinket’s head.

“Mother, please, you have to understand… It is not like that… I… Haymitch is…” Effie stammered, less collected than he had ever seen her.

“Are you _married,_ Euphemia?” the woman retorted.

_Euphemia?_

He stored that away for later, breaching the distance between them with a scowl and completely ignoring the glare her mother tossed his way.

“You’re gonna catch your death, Princess.” he rebuked, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders and tossing her heels at her feet. She slipped everything on distractedly, without even looking away from her mother. “And no, we _ain’t_ married yet.”

Except if you counted _tokens of affection_ as wedding rings. The makeshift bracelet around his wrist was frayed and more black than gold now but he was still wearing it.

“ _Yet_.” the woman spat with enough venom to kill anyone in sight. She glared at her daughter. “I am torn between warning you off gold diggers and seeing you properly married to at least salvage your lack of morals.”

Haymitch placed a hand on Effie’s shoulder, wishing she would let go of her mother’s arm and lean against him, if only because it would allow the woman to run off to the shiny expensive car he could now glimpse parked at the edge of their camp.

The _yet_ had caught Effie’s attention too. She was studying him with a frown of her own but she turned back to her mother to address the most pressing problem.

“Haymitch is not a gold digger.” Effie snapped back, clearly offended. “There is no more gold to dig anyway. All I own now is this circus.”

She was selling herself short. He had seen the books. They were doing really well. As well as any circus could in the period.

“Congratulations, then.” her mother retorted. “You are even stupider than I thought.”

“You’re done, lady?” Haymitch growled. “Cause if you think I’m gonna let you talk to her like _that…_ ”

“Let me?” Elindra repeated with so much loathing that Effie actually took a step back and leaned against him. The way she was looking at him… He might as well have been a fly or an insignificant bug. “ _You_ are _nothing,_ a _nobody_. Do _not_ presume you are the first low-life for whom my daughter spreads her legs. She, unfortunately, has _a type_.”

He opened his mouth to send her back to the hell she came from but Effie was faster. Suddenly, she was standing straighter and she was exuding the same confidence as usual, the charisma that made everyone in the audience turn to her.

“Do _not_ talk to him like this, Mother.” she hissed. “For all intents and purposes, he is my husband.”

“For all intents and purposes, except the ones that count.” Elindra mocked, shaking her head again. “Save your breath, I do not care. I had hoped you would… It does not matter now. I will not be associated with you anymore. It is bad enough you are using your father’s family name as an artist name. You could have at least spared a thought for him and taken a pseudonym.”

“Am I forbidden to use _my own name_ as I would, now?” Effie retorted.

“You can always have mine.” Haymitch snorted before he could stop himself.

He was treated to two very similar glares.

“Can you _not_ choose the worst moment _ever_ to hint at marriage?” she huffed and Haymitch rolled his eyes.

“Ain’t hinting at anything.” he grumbled.

“I am done with you.” Elindra declared. “Do not come crying when you are on the streets without a cent left in your pocket. And _do_ tell your friend to stop sending letters to our house.”

She strode away to her car but, this time, Effie didn’t follow. She watched her go, wrapping herself tighter in his ringleader jacket. It couldn’t have done a lot to warm her up though. Not with her bare legs almost entirely on display. He wrapped an arm around her, awkwardly pressing a kiss on the top of her head, aware everyone was watching them.

“Come on…” he murmured, steering her toward her trailer. He spared a glare for the bystanders though. “Show’s over! Go back to work!”

Everyone scampered away. Small mercies.

Effie didn’t say one word until they were back in the safety of her trailer with the door closed. Then, she sat down at the edge of the bed and placed her hands on her face.

“Well, then…” she whispered. “I suppose this answers the question of whether I still have a family.”

“You _have_ a family, sweetheart.” he scowled, folding his arms over his chest. “We’re right here.”

She dropped her hands and looked at the closed trailer’s door he was pointing at, probably knowing just like he did that all the kids must have gathered around the kitchen trailer waiting for her to come out by now. They would all be worried and eager to make her feel better and he was ready to bet Peeta was already hard at work making pastries to cheer her up.

A soft smile slowly stretched her lips and the tension left her shoulders. The sadness didn’t entirely leave her face though. “You are right. We should get dressed and join them. I am afraid that display was not exactly dignified and we _should_ set an example.”

“Cause I’m usually _so_ dignified.” he snorted and got whacked on the arm for his troubles. He also got a long peck on his lips. 

“Don’t think I forgot the marriage thing.” she sing-sang over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom area.

Haymitch rolled his eyes and hurried in getting dressed before she could properly confront him. By the time she joined him on Sae’s turf, he had a cup of coffee in his hand, a warm pastry in the other and he was thoroughly regretting his stupid habit of not _thinking_ before he spoke. She wasn’t fooled but she gave him his space, shooting dazzling smiles to everyone else and swearing left and right she was alright.

Neither of them remembered the bundle of letters tied with the pink ribbon that waited on their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like our visitor? Who do you think the letters are from? What happened? Can Haymitch one day make a smooth proposal? Let me know your thoughts!


	14. The Worst Day

Haymitch dragged the two boys away from the Big Top and to his own trailer by the arms, refusing to let go even when they struggled and tried to shrug him off.

He didn’t have an office and given the display of that morning with her mother, he didn’t want to bring them back to Effie’s trailer either. The small foldable table was waiting for him in front of his trailer. He shoved Gale on a chair and pushed Peeta on the crate Brutus always used as a seat when he sometimes joined him and Chaff at night for a glass – and, occasionally, when Enobaria was in the mood to join them, for _poker_ although that wasn’t something Effie was aware of.

He flopped down on the other chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest, glaring at the two teenagers in turns. “So? What _the fuck_ got into you today?”

Gale’s nose was bleeding and the boy was trying to stop the flow with his sleeve. As for Peeta, the shiner around his left eye was already starting to show. And that was without counting the scraped knuckles and the various bruises they must have been sporting under their clothes.

That tended to happen when you started brawling in the middle of the ring during rehearsals.

He waited for an answer to his question but he got none. The two kids shared a glance and then looked away, both scowling.

Haymitch was strongly reminded of why he didn’t want children.

He wasn’t sure _when_ they would even find time to have kids of their own anyway. The adopted ones _sure_ took a lot of time as it was. And he wasn’t sure either why he was thinking about _that._ First the marriage proposal that hadn’t really been a proposal that morning, now he was thinking about kids like it was a real thing to consider…

“Oh, come on…” he scoffed. “Don’t give me that attitude. You’ve got a chance to explain yourselves before I hand you over to the boss. See if she’s more understanding.”

Threatening to involve Effie was as effective as threatening them to feed them to Buttercup – which was to say _really not_ because the lion was as placid as they came. If Prim was around, they could even _pet_ him. Even Haymitch had gotten used to seeing him wander around the circus on a leash. Effie was very much like Buttercup. She might look scary when she was angry but all the kids knew whatever lecture she gave would be followed by hugs and hot chocolate. That didn’t mean she didn’t scare them enough into obeying but it did mean Haymitch was left handling the disciplinary problems more often than not.

Peeta broke first.

“I didn’t do anything.” the boy spat. “He jumped on me.”

“You didn’t _do_ anything.” Gale snorted. “ _Right_.”

“What are you implying?” Peeta hissed, half rising from his chair, prompting Gale to bolt to his feet…

Why was today such a _bad_ day?

Haymitch brought his fingers to his mouth and let out a long ear-splitting whistle. “Sit _the fuck_ back down.”

He was puzzled. Not as much as he could have been because he had a good idea of what they were fighting over but he was still a little surprised it had reached that point. The boys weren’t best friends but they had been going along well enough for the most part.

At least until a certain someone had started paying attention back…

“Now… If this is about Peeta’s new girlfriend...” he said quietly.

“She isn’t my girlfriend.” Peeta said quickly and defensively.

Gale glared. “Yeah? Why are you kissing her, then? Cause if you’re toying with her…”

Haymitch fought the urge of slapping his own face. He _hated_ having to deal with teenagers’ problems. It was bad enough that he had been in the room when Rue had run to Effie, a little panicked and a little too emotional, when she had had her first period – and he had fled as quickly and as far as was humanly possible to Effie’s never-ending amusement.

“I’m not toying with her! I love her!” Peeta retorted, never ashamed of his feelings.

Gale was foaming at the mouth now. “Yeah, well… Well...”

Haymitch took pity on the kid. “Look… Katniss is a very pretty bird, we all agree on that.” The glares changed tracks fast and he lifted an eyebrow at their ridiculous reactions. Being jealous of each other was one thing, entertaining the thought that he might be interested in a sixteen year old was another. They had the good graces of looking down at their boots. “Ain’t any excuse to beat each other up. That _can’t_ happen again.” The boys remained stuck in a sulky silence and he rolled his eyes. “You’re both off the show for tonight. Find Chaff and have him put you to work.”

He spotted Effie hurrying in their direction, looking upset. She was wearing blue high waist pants and a softer shade of blue blouse, hair held back by a scarf. She was beautiful and his lips twitched.

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” he called out as soon as she was close enough. “I’ve handled it. The boys are sorry and won’t do it again. _Right_ , boys?”

Peeta and Gale both mumbled an assent but Effie’s gaze only vaguely passed over them and he had the feeling she had no clue what had happened yet. It wasn’t what had upset her.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned. “Your mother again?”

“Would you leave us, please, dears?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.

Gale and Peeta shot her worried looks but on Haymitch’s imperious jerk of the chin, they ran away each in a different direction.

Haymitch was already on his feet, cradling her elbow in his hand because she looked like she was about to faint. She was pale and her eyes were far too bright, her lips were pursed in a tight line…

“Sweetheart…” he said carefully.

“The letters…” she whispered and her voice was raw as if she was forcing herself to utter the words. It took him a while to remember the bundle of letters her mother had tossed on the bed that morning. “The letters were from Portia.”

Her lips wobbled but her tongue darted out to lick them and she took a deep breath. From that alone, he figured out all he needed to know but she started speaking again so he let her say it, because he suspected she needed to. He simply drew soothing circles on her arm with his thumb.

“I haven’t heard from her in months.” she continued. “I thought… The letters get lost sometimes and if you miss one it is hard to know where to write to me afterwards. I kept thinking I should find a phone in town and call or send her the upcoming schedule but there is always so much to do I never actually got around to…”

Her voice broke and he tugged her closer, wrapping both arms around her when she leaned against him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” he sighed. “That’s the kind of life we have. It happens. I’m sure your friend knows that.”

She buried her face in his neck and locked her arms around his waist, tight enough that it almost hurt. “She was trying to reach me because… Because…”

He pressed a kiss on her temple and then on her cheek. “I get it. I’m sorry, Princess.”

“Cinna… Cinna is dead.” she said anyway and then a sob escaped her. Just one. She took another deep breath and she was back in control again. He wasn’t sure for how long though. “It’s been months. He has been dead for _months_ and I… I did not know. I…”

She started crying, then. _Really_ crying.

There wasn’t a lot of people around but he guided her inside his trailer all the same, knowing she would like her privacy.

He held her for what felt like hours, petting her hair and dropping random kisses on her skin, knowing there was very little he could say to make her feel better.

“I need to tell the others.” she whispered eventually, curled up against his chest.

He kept on running his finger through her hair, distractedly toying with her curls. “I can take care of it, if you want.”

She shook her head. “No. It should be me.” She let out a deep sigh and slowly tore herself away from him, rubbing her face and spreading her already smudged make-up a little more. “Today is the worst day of my life.”

He didn’t offer any acknowledgement. He had already lived the worst day of his life and it didn’t compare but he could admit that today was pretty bad. What he didn’t say was that the day wasn’t over yet.

Bad things tended to come in three.

“We should cancel the show.” she said as an afterthought. “It would be for the best.”

“Or the show could be a tribute.” he countered and then shrugged. “Your choice, Princess. You know I’m with you whatever happens.”

Her smile was small but genuine. She cupped his cheek and kissed him, deeper than he had thought she would.

“I know you hate to hear those words but I love you.” she whispered.

He did hate those words because they brought him back to another time but he made an effort not to let them shake him.

He bumped his forehead against hers. “We’re a team.”

That was usually her line but he thought she could have used the reminder.

“Always.” she promised.

The day didn’t get any better after that.

Effie gathered everyone under the Big Top and delivered the news with as much delicacy as possible. She held herself straight and didn’t let herself waver even though her eyes were shiny. After that, it was all about comforting the kids. Cashmere and Gloss - who had no clue who Cinna was but could understand well enough that the matter was serious - took care of Marvel and Glimmer. Chaff appeared next to Tresh in time to squeeze the boy’s shoulder and hug Rue before she started to cry. Effie embraced Prim who was in tears… Johanna stormed off, kicking everything on her way and screaming curses at the top of her lungs - Haymitch was tempted to follow but Enobaria waved him off and took off after her… Finnick and Annie were holding each other… Peeta and Gale were sitting on the first row of bleacher side by side, hunched over and looking in the distance… So that left…

He wasn’t sure how Katniss had left the tent without anyone noticing but he had troubles tracking her down to a narrow space between two storage trucks. It was barely big enough for him to slip in between and he couldn’t help but think that if someone moved one of the trucks, they might get crushed to death or run over. Still, he sat down beside her with some difficulties and sighed.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“I want a drink.” she retorted.

That made him chuckle. “Finally something I can help you with.” He almost took his flask out and handed it over but there would be hell to pay if Katniss got herself drunk. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s alright to cry.”

He wasn’t sure if she had been waiting for permission or if it became simply _too much_ for her at that moment. Katniss was always on the edge. Always looking out for her sister. Always being the responsible one in their family because she needed to be. Always put Prim first and herself second.

It started with a sob and then it was outright wailing.

She resisted at first when Haymitch tried to wrap an arm around her, she pushed him away so he respected her wishes and just sat there, his head resting against the truck at his back, his legs uncomfortably folded against his chest, hurting to hear her hurt like that…

He shouldn’t have had favorites and Katniss was a pain in the ass but… He’d felt a connection with the girl as soon as he had seen her.

It took a while for Katniss to accept he wasn’t going to leave her alone, that he _would_ sit right there with her until she was ready to crawl out of her hiding place… And when she finally realized that, she leaned against him and finally accepted the comfort he wanted to give and it broke his heart a little more.

He had hated holding Effie while she cried so many tears, hated that she was hurting, but _this…_ This was simply _painful_.

He didn’t promise her it would get better because he wasn’t in any habit of lying if he could help it. He held her tight and offered whatever comfort he could and awkwardly carried her out of there when she fell asleep. He met Peeta not too far from her trailer and the boy wordlessly took her from him and carried her the rest of the way. He spotted Gale watching from afar and sighed to himself.

A majority of them still wanted to perform that night so they didn’t close the circus. Katniss, Prim, Rue and Annie elected not to participate but Effie reluctantly declared she would do her acts.

“You were right. Show must go on.” she whispered to him when he pointed out she didn’t have to and that they could do it without her.

He gave strict orders to Chaff that the safety net was to remain in place during all aerial performances that night, regardless of personal preferences. Everyone was upset and he didn’t want any accidents.

Everything went well though. Or as well as possible. Something was off beat all night. As if everyone’s grief was tangible, a presence that overshadowed everything else.

They all gathered around one of the campfires afterwards instead of going their separate ways like they usually did. Some of them shared stories, Katniss reluctantly told them about how Cinna had designed her costumes and made her fire tricks possible… Each of the kids had a story involving Cinna and, listening to them, Haymitch regretted not having taken the time to get to know the man when he had the chance. He sounded like a good man.

War though… It didn’t care about good men.

He was staring at the flames flickering in the air, trying not to let his mind wander too far from himself when Gale appeared in his line of sight. Haymitch looked up but it was Effie the boy was staring at. Effie who had leaned against his side and who looked ready to drop asleep right there…

“Can I talk to you?” the kid asked quietly, not to disturb Finnick who was in the middle of a story probably. The boy’s gaze briefly strayed to Haymitch. “You too, I guess.”

“Of course, dear.” Effie agreed immediately with a tired smile.

She straightened and then used Haymitch’s shoulder to stand up. He hauled himself to his feet with less grace but the same kind of exhaustion. They wandered a few feet away, following Gale.  The boy didn't take them to either of their trailer, he stopped once they were far enough from the campfire so they wouldn’t be overheard.

From there, they could see the Big Top being dismantled. The night was loud with the sounds of metal and shouts. If he had focused, Haymitch could probably have picked up Chaff’s voice over the noise, screaming instructions and overseeing the process.

“What is it?” Effie frowned when Gale didn’t say anything but shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the next.

Haymitch had a bad feeling. The kid _never_ fidgeted.

“I wanted to say thank you.” Gale said after clearing his throat. “For everything you did for me. Giving me a job and all.”

“Gale.” Effie almost _warned._ She must have been having the same bad feeling he did because her face was closed, _guarded_.

“Look… I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and today…” the boy continued.

“Gale.” she insisted with more urgency.

“I am going to join the army.” Gale declared.

There was a moment of silence. Behind them, the Big Top deflated like a balloon, Chaff’s voice suddenly piercing the night with the usual calls to be careful.

“You will do _no_ such thing!” Effie huffed suddenly, glaring at him. “This is nonsense! Your mother…”

“I will make more money in the army. I can help her out more.” Gale argued.

“How will you help her out if you get yourself _killed?”_ Effie snapped before turning to Haymitch who had, so far, remained silent. “Are you going to say _something?”_

Haymitch sighed and rubbed his face. “If it's because of Katniss… May not seem that way now but there will be other girls, kid.”

“It’s not.” the boy scoffed. “I just… I need to do this. For my country. Cinna died for it. It’s the honorable thing to do and…”

“Ain't anything honorable in it.” Haymitch cut him off.  “It's a stupid war and it's senseless death.”

“Then why did _you_ enroll?” Gale challenged.

“I beg your pardon?” Effie cut in.

The boy shrugged. “Given his age and when he was deployed…”

“I _did_ enroll.” Haymitch admitted, waving off Effie's incredulous gaze. “The circus was almost bankrupted and the recruiters were convincing. Seemed like a good way to earn money for my family and do something worthwhile.” He shook his head and searched the kid’s eyes. “Let me tell you it _wasn’t_. There's no glory to what's happening over there, Gale.”

But the boy had already taken his decision, he could _see_ it on his face.

“Look, I just wanted to say _thanks,_ Effie, that's it. You're not my mother and I’ve been of age for a month.” Gale retorted. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

The boy left despite Effie’s attempts at convincing him he was being stupid.

“Won’t make her love you!” Haymitch shouted at his departing back.

If Gale heard, he didn't let on.

“You're okay?” he asked Effie carefully, coiling his hand around her nape and giving it a soft squeeze.

“Let's go to bed.” she begged, shaking her head. “Let's go to bed before this day gets any worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next week will be the last show! I hope to see you there! Let me know your thoughts!


	15. The Ringleader And The Circus Owner

Haymitch was staring at the imposing shape of the Big Top in the darkness in the distance, cradling the metal cup in his hands to keep them warm.

The hot cocoa had long replaced the booze he used to drink at night.

Since Gale had left six months earlier, he had become more and more involved in helping Effie manage the circus and, above all, he had gotten more and more involved _with Effie_. She had never asked him to stop drinking and she had never really addressed his alcoholism point blank. Giving up the liquor hadn’t really been a conscious decision. It had just happened. The need for liquor hadn’t been as burning and, while he had gone through a few uncomfortable weeks, he had stopped touching the stuff.

Somewhere from a nearby trailer, probably Jo’s, he could hear the faint buzzing of a radio spitting out more upsetting news about Vietnam, the new conscription measures and the numerous protests taking place everywhere.

They didn’t get much news from Gale so they weren’t sure how much of what was rumored to be taking place oversea was true and how much was blown out of proportions. His letters to Katniss were few and far in between. For what it was worth, he seemed to have embraced military life at least. Fortunately, he hadn’t inspired the others to follow in his footsteps. If anything, all the other boys seemed more determined than ever to remain as far as they could from anyone wearing an uniform.

Which had started to be more and more difficult in the last couple of months.

Even moving around, it had become too dangerous for the kids they were more or less harboring. Controls were more frequent and gazes lingered on the young men in the troupe when so many of the local youths were already gone.

He was the one who had suggested a tour of Canada would be good for the circus and Effie had agreed wholeheartedly. They had crossed the border quietly in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere, without asking anyone for permission. It had seemed safer that way.

But they still didn’t feel safe. They were too close for comfort.

“I have all the paperwork done. I think we are set.” Effie declared, suddenly appearing next to him as if his thoughts had conjured her out of thin air, making sure to keep her voice low not to disturb people in the neighboring trailers. She gracefully sank down on the ground next to him, immediately holding out her hands to warm them at the small campfire he had built. “If everything goes well, we will be leaving next week.”

“France?” he asked, wanting a confirmation. France had been the plan. France and then Europe.

If they were to hide deserters, he would feel better once there would be a whole ocean between them and the American government.

“France.” she confirmed. She was grinning, the excitation clear in her voice despite the circumstances. She was desperate to visit Paris. To see the world. “We have to tell the others tomorrow. Not everyone will follow us.”

That much he knew. Some of the work crew had bailed before they had crossed into Canada. Not all of them would agree to jump continents. It didn’t matter. The kids would all follow them and he was pretty sure Chaff would too, they were the most important people to him. 

“It’s gonna be great.” he offered with a tentatively hopeful smirk.

He had never been to Europe either. He had traveled from one end of the US to the other but his circus had never left its native soil.

“Yes.” she hummed. “Yes, I believe it will be.”

She stole the cup of cocoa from his hands and took a sip. He rolled his eyes at her but let her have it, fondling the stick he had been toying with earlier instead. When he was satisfied that it was pointy enough, he stabbed a piece of bread and held it over the flames. He had been craving s'mores initially but he hadn’t been able to find marshmallows or crackers so he had settled for toasted bread for a late snack.

They were both silent for a while. She sipped his chocolate and he watched the bread, relying on his sense of smell more than on his sight because the night was dark and there weren’t many lights around. The fire tossed strange shadows on everything.

“It’s been a year.” he said after a minute or so, taking the bread out of the fire and blowing on it twice.

She didn’t ask what he was talking about. A lot of things might have happened a year earlier but the main one would have been difficult to forget. About a year earlier, she had almost fallen off her trapeze and he had kissed her for all he was worth. About a year earlier, he had taken a chance and he still had to regret it so far.

There were bad days, of course. There were endless arguments and fights that left them swearing they were done with each other… There were moments when he couldn’t breathe, terrified sick that she would be ripped away from him by a too cruel fate…

But, above all, there were good days. _Wonderful_ days. There were her smiles in the morning, her hair in his face, her winks before she did something absolutely reckless with her tightrope during practice… There were a thousand things that made the risk worth it.

“So, it has.” she hummed and the grin turned to something softer, more intimate. A secret smile that was usually reserved for him. “Was it a good year for you?”

She was teasing him and he refused to take the bait. He was a bit too serious about what he wanted to happen next for him to make a joke of it.

She was wearing red that night, the same shade she had when she had knocked on his door more than a year earlier.

_Red like the Big Top..._

_Red like a ringleader outfit..._

_Red like the blaze that had swallowed his whole life…_

Red, he had long decided, was his favorite color. It could be fantastic or terrible but it was never ever dull.

She had painted colors back over his monochrome life and he could never thank her enough for that.

“Before we leave for Europe… We should find a pastor.” he told her and then made a face. “Or a rabbi or a priest or whatever you’re into.”

He offered her the toasted piece of bread. She took a small bite to hide her amused smile.

“This is a _terrible_ proposal, Haymitch.” she remarked. “I have been waiting for six months and _this_ is what you came up with?” She didn’t sound angry so she couldn’t have been expecting some grand gesture. Besides, she had been joking around with the idea of them getting married for months. She didn’t seem to _really_ believe he would ask and he didn’t seem to be able to decide if he wanted to or not despite the butchered half-proposal he had made when her mother had visited. Not because he didn’t love her but because he simply didn’t care for that sort of things. And she was well aware. “Did you just decide to ask me right now?” she teased. “On the spot? There is usually a ring to go with the proposal, you realize.”

It took him a second to figure out she was laughing at him.

He rolled his eyes and buried his hand in his pocket, fingering the small box that he had been hiding in there for days. Finally, he took it out and tossed it at her. She caught it easily but with a disapproving look for his manners.

He could have made it better. Use one of his tricks. A flick of the wrist, some flourish gesture… Pretend he had found it in her cleavage or behind her ear…

He could have but this was all too important to turn it into a magic trick.

He stared at the fire rather than at her when she opened the box, nervousness making his stomach clench.

“I know it ain’t much…” he mumbled awkwardly. “But it’s yours if you want it.”

It was a modest ring. All he could afford, really. He had bought it in a pawn shop a few towns back. It was gold or so the pawnbroker had claimed, two thin bands twisted around a tiny diamond… It would have to serve as an engagement and a wedding ring both because he couldn’t really buy another one but…

“Haymitch…” she whispered. She sounded a little breathless and he looked up, startled to see tears shining in her eyes. She blinked them away but before he could ask her if she found the ring _so_ ugly that she would cry over it she was kissing him. _Hard_.

He could still taste the hot bread on her lips.

“So that’s a yes, then?” he muttered against her mouth.

“It is a yes if you really want to get married.” she answered between two deeper kisses. “But I do not need anyone to pronounce us husband and wife to know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I was mostly joking, you know.”

“ _Mostly_.” he scoffed, drawing back. He pressed another peck on her lips and stabbed another piece of bread to toast, intending on eating that one. He was smirking though.

“Put that ring on me right now and I am yours.” she offered. “No wedding, no fuss and no church required.”

“I’m hungry right now.” he argued, faking disinterest. He couldn’t hide his chuckles when she stole the stick from his hand, snatched the bread that hadn’t really had time to toast from the pointy end and more or less forced a large piece of it in his mouth. “So violent, Princess…” he taunted, chewing hard not to choke on the hot bread.

She found it a little less amusing when he kissed her with his mouth full but she still ended up laughing too, barely resisting his half-hearted attempts at getting her to lie down on her back. They were too exposed for him to start anything anyway. There were still a few people out and about.

Still, he managed to get the ring out of the box while she was distracted by his kisses and licked his lips, pressing his forehead against hers, when he had the ring around her first knuckle.

“Wanna take up an old magician for a husband, sweetheart?” he asked.

“As long as the magician is aware I know all his tricks and he will never be able to escape _me_ …” she grinned.

“The magician can live with that.” he snorted, slipping the ring further down. It was on the small side but it fitted around her finger well enough. He stared at it for a while, smirking hard, before bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss on it. “Wife.”

“Husband.” she joked, entwining their fingers. She was smiling so hard he couldn’t help but smile back.

“No ring for me?” he teased, popping another piece of bread in his mouth with his free hand before bringing what was left of it to her lips. She bit down without much prompting, her other fingers coiling around the frayed golden threads still knotted around his wrist.

“I hate to burst your bubble but you have been mine for a very long time, Haymitch.” she retorted

He considered that for a moment and granted her point with a shrug and a smirk.

That might have been the weirdest wedding ever. An old second-hand ring, a frayed golden thread bracelet and far too much bread toasted over a fire… Somehow, it suited them, he thought. They had never been very conventional.

Circus life would do that to you.

Or maybe that was just them.

_The Victor Illusionist_ and _The Fabulous Effie Trinket_.

The magician and the aerial artist.

The ringleader and the circus owner...

**_ CURTAIN FALLS  _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this short ride with the Capitol Circus! I also hope you enjoyed this last chapter =) 
> 
> Keep an eye out for my new story coming in January. It doesn't have a name yet but I only have the epilogue left to write so I'm hoping to have it up in the begining of the new year! 
> 
> As usual: let me know your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hated it? Let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> (and don't miss 'Katniss, the vampire slayer' on Sunday!)


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